Regenerate!
by hayatin
Summary: Miya Tanaka failed her entrance exams to UA. Ten years later, a tired teacher with bloodshot eyes appears on her doorstep to offer her a job at the same school she was rejected from. Her quirk? Regeneration.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - Hello to all! I couldn't help myself, I just love BNHA so much. I make no apologies. I plan to make this a long fic, so buckle up :) Just a side note - I'll use the Japanese style speech (that includes introductions of last names first, honorifics, etc etc) as I write interactions and dialogue. I also don't have a beta for any of my work, so apologies in advance for spelling/grammar mistakes.**

** Let me know what you think!**

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* * *

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She remembered it clearly, the day she realized her dream.

She remembered a sunny day, with the birds chirping merrily in the trees outside her kindergarten classroom, filling the air with light and dainty notes. She remembered her body shaking in nervous and excited anticipation as she waited for her teacher to give her a turn to speak.

'What do you want to be when you grow up?'

It was a question that was easy enough to answer for most children, and one that was asked quite often of them and usually accompanied with the pinching of cheeks or a slight ruffling of the hair in endearment. Most children changed their answer every few weeks, repeating their desired profession aloud as their whims changed from day to day and week to week.

But some children reflected deeply upon this question. Some children were certain from the beginning of what they wanted to do with their lives, of how they would leave their mark upon the world.

Tanaka Miya was one of those children. She had always been a serious child.

Her palms were sweaty that day, her hands rubbing themselves raw as she waited for the teacher to call her name. She remembered the other answers her classmates had given.

"A ballerina!"

"A firefighter!"

"A nurse!"

"An actor!"

The question was one she was sure she knew the answer to, one that she knew she wanted more than anything. Her four-year-old body had quaked when the teacher asked her, but she had stood boldly in front of her classmates to boldly answer the question.

"And what about you, Miya-chan? What do you want to be when you grow up?"

She had answered without hesitation, brown eyes sparkling in determination.

"I want to be a hero."

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* * *

.

Mahnaz Tanaka-Khorasani grew up under the care of her grandfather in a respectable and perfectly ordinary neighborhood of Tokyo.

Her grandfather, Tanaka Junichi, was a quirkless old man who had grown quite bitter in his older age, and the man held a great deal of resentment towards quirks the genetic mutations and the powers that had manifested in the human race because of it.

Junichi had been born in a generation when being quirkless meant you were part of the majority, even if it hadn't lasted long. He was old enough to remember when things were still somewhat calm and quiet. When he was growing up, there were fewer quirks and fewer odd bodily mutations, when the extraordinary had yet to become ordinary.

Quirks had been around a while, of course, but those that survived of his generation had certainly seen the shifting of demographics over the last century, until quirks had become almost completely manifested into society, rather than being a little more sporadic as they had been almost a century ago.

And he hated it. He hated everything about it.

Quirks and people with quirks had changed everything, and changed it for the worse.

He hated the foreign female doctor from Iran with the healing quirk that his son had fallen in love with and married, despite Junichi forbidding him to do so. He hated that his son and daughter-in-law weren't normal like he was, that they were infected with the same sickness that the rest of their society was these days. He hated the villain who had used a destructive quirk to derail the train that his son Hayato rode every morning to his job at the hospital. His son had died that day, leaving behind his infant daughter and wife.

Quirks had torn his family apart. Quirks had killed his son.

Quirks were the reason that governments became greedy and fought with each other. Laleh Khorasani, the woman his son had married, had a quirk that the Iranian government deemed useful to their country. The embassy had recalled her visa shortly after the death of her husband. The Japanese government, unwilling to risk political tensions, had separated a mother from her daughter and deported the woman back to her native country, leaving Junichi to raise his granddaughter alone.

Not that Junichi really minded.

The girl was all he had left of his son Hayato, and he had always hated her mother, Laleh. He was glad to see her gone.

He had even re-registered her name as just Miya Tanaka, erasing the evidence of her Persian name given to her by a Persian mother, who he blamed alongside quirks for all the tragedies that had rocked his world and left him bitter and all alone. She would be raised Japanese, and that was final. What kind of name was Mahnaz, anyway? He supposed he was doing her a favor by changing it to something that would fit in better.

And so, Mahnaz Tanaka-Khorasani became Miya Tanaka.

The first time that Miya ever asked about her parents as a young child, he'd lied. He'd told her they both died on a train, killed by an evil villain. It was better that way, he supposed.

Miya grew up raised by a bitter grandfather, though he loved her underneath that harsh exterior. He was angry at the world and heartbroken, but he loved her all the same. She reminded him so much of his late son. She was sweet and innocent, and it had been his deepest hope that she would never inherit any quirks from her parents.

His hope was dashed the day she came home from school with the announcement that she had finally gotten her quirk.

He was crestfallen, and even more so when she announced that she wanted to be a hero immediately after showing him the regenerative abilities of her newly found quirk. He had grounded her for a week after she had made that statement, and she had been smart enough not to bring it up again with him after seeing how upset she had made him. But he could tell that she was determined to use her quirk for good, so very much like her father.

Over the years, as Miya matured, he did his best to stamp out the interest in heroics that his granddaughter held in her heart.

He tried to steer her over the years, as she grew into a lovely young woman. He would die before he let her go to UA like she wanted, he would dig his own grave before he saw his precious granddaughter become a hero like she always dreamed of. It was better to be a doctor, just like her father. A noble profession, not like those ruffians who ran around chasing danger.

No, she would be a doctor like her parents were. They never spoke of heroes, but of the paths that she could take instead. He pushed hard, giving it his all in the hopes she would just give up that silly dream.

_'What about medical school? Your father would have been so proud of you if you chose to become a doctor like he was. It's better this way.' _

_'UA? Forget about it. It's better if you study medicine, and you've already been accepted to the best medical high school that the country has! What more could you want? It's better this way.'_

_'Look, I brought you a new plant for your collection. Aren't plants much more interesting than those dumb manga novels about heroes that you like? It's better this way.'_

_'Your parents were killed by a villain who hates heroes and people who do good. You want to make them proud? Carry on their legacy, become a doctor! It's better this way.'_

He'd filled her head with statements like that over the years, as she grew up.

He thought he'd succeeded in his mission until the day a letter arrived from UA addressed to Miya.

She had taken the entrance exams behind his back, and she had failed. Apparently, a healing quirk had not been suited to the combative nature of the exams, and she had not scored enough points to be admitted.

He had been both furious and overjoyed at the same time: angry that she had hidden this from him and happy that her dreams were now at an end. Now that this little fanciful dream had ended, she could focus on becoming a doctor like she was supposed to.

They moved from Tokyo to Musutafu, and Miya had started school at the Hamada Private Academy for Medicine a month later, the most prestigious medically-geared high school in all of Japan.

She went on to graduate at the top of her class, to no surprise of her peers or grandfather. Within a few years of graduating high school, she had aced her board exams after medical school and landed a residency in the best hospital of Musutafu.

Miya settled into the role her grandfather had forced her in and never mentioned her dreams again.

.

* * *

.

Recovery girl was retiring.

Aizawa Shota could not say he was surprised, though he suspected the ancient woman would still outlive them all one day. It was a retirement that was well earned and well deserved in his opinion.

She had announced it in their monthly staff meeting just hours ago, and Nezu had asked all teachers to submit any recommendations for replacements before they listed the job publicly. At first, he thought it best to remain silent, to not voice any opinions on who should be her successor because he could honestly say he did not have anyone in mind.

But something was bothering him, a nagging feeling in the back of his head that just wouldn't let him rest. It wasn't long before he remembered the girl.

It had been his first year as a new teacher at UA, and the first time he had ever sat in on an entrance exam to help decide who should gain admittance and who should be rejected. It was also the first time he realized just how unfair their entrance exam was to those who didn't have offense-based quirks.

He remembered her vividly, recalling to mind the image of the blue-haired girl with a powerful healing quirk, who had been automatically rejected because she had not scored many points.

That flash of memory and subtle hunch was what brought him to where he currently sat: in the computer archives room, scrolling through clips and videos of an entrance exam that had taken place years ago. But he never forgot a face, and he remembered the look she had sported when she realized that her time was up and she hadn't taken out a single target.

Instead, she had spent the time-limit healing her fellow peers of any injury they had received during the practical exam in the hope that her effort would be noticed. It was not noticed, at least not by those who made the decision on who to accept into the program.

But Aizawa noticed.

His bloodshot eyes narrowed somewhat when he finally found the electronic file he was looking for. It had taken a while for him to find her, and his eyes were strained from the bright computer screen in a dimly lit room, but he had found her.

He scrutinized every bit of her rejected file.

He looked past a face that society would probably deem as pretty and went straight for the information archived on her quirk.

**Name: **Tanaka, Miya.

**Quirk: **"Regeneration". Ability to regenerate any organic life matter. Shows extreme proficiency in healing abilities and an affinity towards nature.

**Status: **Rejected.

His frown tightened on his face. Yet another promising candidate screwed over by a faulty exam that failed to shine light on different quirks with potential. She was one of many who could have been a hero, but had not been given a fair chance.

She hadn't missed a single question on her written exams, but the practical she had immediately failed.

He opened a tab on the internet browser, the search bar waiting instructions and blinking expectantly at him. His fingers moved with ease, typing out her name to see what had happened to her after she was rejected.

The information was surprisingly easy to find, mostly due to the fact that she had stayed in Musutafu and made quite a name for herself in the medical world.

The list of published articles on her research projects and trials were seemingly endless, as were the awards she had won from the medical and scientific community, despite being in her mid-twenties. It was clear the woman was intelligent.

She was currently leading the movement towards more in-depth studies that revolved around using regenerative quirks like hers to help re-grow organs for those who needed transplants. She was also working to study the advancement of skin-grafting with the use of her quirk and quirks like it. Miya Tanaka was a pioneer in this field of research, and had been given much funding to carry it out.

That was no good.

A heavily funded woman would be hard to convince to quit her job. UA could only offer her a provisional hero's license, a bunch of bratty kids, and a salary much lower than what she most likely already had. She would be a fool to take the position if it was offered to her, there was nothing that she would gain from it.

He took another long look at the picture attached to her most recently published article on epidermal regeneration, taking in her appearance and how the eight or nine years since she failed her entrance exams had changed her.

Her blue hair was swept up into a low bun, making it hard to tell how long it was. Everything about her was neat and orderly, not a hair out of place. Her doctor's coat was a pristine white, and her business attire beneath the coat was freshly pressed and wrinkle free. Olive-toned skin, rounder eyes, and sharp facial features indicated that perhaps she was not pure Japanese.

She was no longer the gawky, awkward and unsure looking teen that she had been in her application photo. She looked like she meant business now, and she held herself with a strict and serious air.

Her eyes, however, sparkled in a way that her neat and perfect appearance could not hide. Those were the eyes of someone who was looking for more, he was sure of it. They were the eyes of a woman who was aspiring to something else. He had seen the look on many would-be heroes before. With just a look into those eyes of hers, something told him it was worth a shot.

And so, the next morning he handed over his formal recommendation and the information he had gathered on her to Nezu, who agreed immediately that she would make a good candidate for the position. She was, as he had relayed, the most qualified candidate that had been submitted based on recommendation so far.

A letter was sent to her home address, an apartment in the middle-class area of the city, with an invitation to come interview for the job.

They received no reply.

A second letter was sent.

No reply.

A phone call was made.

The old man on the other end hung up as soon as he heard the words "UA".

The decision was then made then to send Aizawa instead, since it had been he who recommended her in the first place, which he had accepted his role in begrudgingly.

It seemed as though the woman was intent not to respond to their interview invitation, and he was content to let her be if that was what she wanted. He didn't really care one way or the other, but Nezu was insistent that she must come, so he was sent to go and speak to her personally.

He fought the internal urge to grumble as he ascended the staircase that led to her apartment. This woman was turning out to be a pain, and he would much rather be spending his Friday evening catching up on sleep and tackling the mountain of untouched papers in his living room that needed grading instead of being sent on a witch hunt.

But here he was, slouching outside of an apartment of a pretty young woman and knocking on the door, all the while longing for the comfort of home and a bed that was calling his name.

It took three knocks before the door opened and Aizawa was met with the image of an ancient old man who was dressed as though the passing of time had not affected him at all. With old-fashioned trousers and suspenders, and a head shaved like the Japanese soldiers in the second world war, he looked like he had stepped out of a history book.

"What do you want?" The old man wheezed at him, eyeing the bloodshot eyes and rumpled clothing in suspicion.

"Is this the residence of Miya Tanaka?" He droned, monotonous voice low as he asked after the elusive woman.

The old geezer eyed him up and down, clearly unimpressed.

"She only works at the clinic for the homeless on Thursdays, wait until next week and don't bother her at home." He sniffed, before attempting to close the door.

Aizawa felt his eye twitch. He was a patient man, but it only stretched so far. He had taken a train ride in the middle of rush hour, and spent forty minutes pressed like a sardine in the train car in order to get here. He hated rush hour. He also hated people in excess. In fact, he had a habit of taking the early morning train and the late night train to and from work, just to avoid all the noisy people.

He was about to reach out to stop the old man from closing his door, but the very person he was looking for beat him to it.

"Don't be rude, 'Jii-chan." A soft voiced scolded, opening the door back up as the cranky old man retreated into the apartment with a few grumbles. "Can I help you? The homeless clinic was yesterday, but I can take a look over now if it's an emergency."

Once again ignoring the unintentional insult, he studied the woman in front of him.

She was dressed casually, very unlike the internet picture he had found of her. Her blue hair was thrown up into a messy top knot, and she was dressed in short athletic shorts and a baggy t-shirt. Her feet were graced with fuzzy socks that didn't match in pattern or color.

His face betrayed no emotion as he replied, ignoring both of their assumptions that he was a poor, homeless man in search of medical treatment.

"Miya Tanaka." He said, and she frowned as he spoke, correcting him before he could continue.

"It's Dr. Tanaka." She corrected with a small frown.

"_Dr. Tanaka." _He reiterated, ready to just say what he had to say so he could leave. "I'm Aizawa Shota, and I'm here on behalf of UA Academy to offer you an invitation to interview for the position of medical director. I was sent when you failed to reply to the phone calls and letters."

Her eyes widened substantially, brown irises conveying a sense of shock that surprised him as well. They had been thorough in their attempts to reach the young woman, had she truly not received any contact from the school?

Suddenly, her expression changed to one of exasperation. She glanced back into her apartment in disdain before meeting his gaze with an apologetic look.

"I see. I apologize for the inconvenience. I'm willing to bet it was my grandfather who made sure I didn't hear from you. He's not the biggest fan of your institution."

"Ah." Was his one-syllable acknowledgement. He didn't have anything he felt like adding. She continued.

"But I'm afraid you're mistaken. I'm not licensed to use my quirk outside of a medical setting, I wouldn't be able to use it outside the hospital. I'm not a hero, just a doctor." She went on, as if he didn't already know.

"The first few months would be used as an internship of sorts." He explained, hoping to keep things short and simple so that he could get home and sleep. "Recovery Girl has announced her retirement, but she would stay to train her replacement. You would receive training to be able to apply for your provisional hero's license."

Her mouth dropped, though she quickly snapped it shut.

And then, it was there. For a brief moment, he had seen the smallest flash of excitement in her eyes, which meant that he had been correct in his original assumption. He watched the way her breath hitched in her throat and her fingers twitched.

She _did _want more. His assumption had been correct.

"You…want me to work at UA." She parroted back to him, summing up his words in a simple sentence.

He did not respond, he had already stated as such and it would be illogical to waste his breath to repeat himself. She was smart, and he knew she had heard him well enough.

An awkward silence stretched in between them, as she stood in her doorway and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Why?" She finally asked.

"I was there when you failed. I saw what you're capable of. It was my first year as a teacher." He informed quietly, though he was not sure what possessed him to tell her this. "I personally recommended you for the position."

He had recommended her based on what he remembered and what he had seen from the video recordings and what he had seen of her research and accomplishments since then. He had been impressed, he could not deny it. And he knew potential when he saw it.

Her brows furrowed in confusion.

"Why?" She demanded again, searching his face for any sign of deceit or ulterior motives. His features remained blank. "You don't even know me. I could be a bad fit, what makes you think I'm capable? Why would you have faith in someone you've never met?"

It was a good question, and it was one that had a simple answer, though he chose not to answer her at all. He had done his part and didn't see the need to stick around any longer.

He shrugged instead of replying, and began his walk back towards the stairs, leaving her gaping like a fish behind him. He had come to say what he was sent for and could now go home to work on lesson plans and sleep. The rest was up to her.

But he had a feeling that she would choose to come for the interview. With her credentials and that quirk the job was already hers, the interview was only a formality, though she didn't need to know that.

She would come, he was sure of it. He'd seen the look in her eyes that gleamed at the opportunity to be something greater than "just a doctor", as she had described herself.

He didn't turn back to look at her as he spoke his last statement, casually starting down the stairs.

"Prove me wrong then."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N - Oh my goooooosh thank you guys so much for the quick feedback in such a short time! It's really appreciated and I was honestly surprised to see so many notifications. As for updates, I plan on updating one to two weeks at a time with chapters around 5k word length so I can push them out a bit faster. Again, apologies in advance for any grammar or spelling I might have overlooked.**

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* * *

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Miya sat up in bed with a start. The clock on her bedside table read 04:43, just two minutes before her alarm usually went off.

Blinking away the sleepy haze in her eyes, she shoved aside the jumbled memories of strange dreams that a restless sleep had brought. After rubbing a minute at tired eyes, she blinked, gaze traveling around her room.

Her room in their modest apartment was filled to the brim with plant life, medical textbooks, a few pictures she had framed from the times she had traveled with friends in medical school, and some clinical notes that lay scattered on her desk next to a laptop. Some twinkle lights that hung around the perimeter of where the wall met the ceiling illuminated the work on her desk she that still needed to take care of, but that work she would take care of later.

There were more important things to think about in the meantime.

She let her eyes drift to the outfit she had hung the night prior, after an hour or so of rifling through her clothing. She had called UA just minutes after the strange man with bloodshot eyes left, accepting the invitation to interview without hesitation or really pausing to think about what she was doing.

She had made copies of her resume, cover letters, and references. Along with that information she had added a long list of credentials, publications, and awards. The manila folder was thick with information, the portfolio large. She wondered if perhaps it was too much. She didn't want to make it seem like she was gloating or flaunting her achievements, but the truth was that she already had a lot to her name, and she felt it was important to display that she was both motivated and capable of what she put her mind to.

The patchwork quilt pooled at her hips as she sat up further, eyeing the outfit again in doubt.

Was it too casual? Too professional? Should she wear heels or flats? What did one wear to an interview at a school for heroes anyways? What pieces of clothing said 'look at me, I'm going to be the next Recovery Girl!'.

She had no idea.

Miya hoped that the knee-length skirt and plain button up would be enough. Not too flashy, yet refined and practical.

She wasn't even sure why she was doing this, or why she had jumped on the opportunity without sparing a moment for thought. She had acted with her heart and not with her mind, and that had surprised her. She had stopped listening to her heart ten years ago, when her dreams of becoming a hero were crushed.

Miya sighed, running a hand through long locks made tangled and messy from sleep.

She already had a job, and a good one at that. She spent four years in a grueling and extremely competitive medical college to get where she was today. She was a surgeon, a researcher, and had much to her name after working so hard. The residency she had landed was one coveted by many.

Miya had been awarded more money than she knew what to do with for her innovative research. She could very well be nominated for the International Medical Advancement award in a few years if she kept pushing forward in her current field, and that was an award that was not given out lightly.

Her path was set, she was strutting down a road that had been paved for her by her grandfather and her own complacency. She had always thought she was content with her life, up until last night, when that strange man had appeared on her doorstep and dared her to prove him wrong. Miya was not completely sure why his words had such a big impact on her, or why she had been so quick to take his challenge.

She already had everything she could have ever wanted – or so said her grandfather.

So why was she so willing to give it all up, especially after working so hard for it?

She had surprised herself last night, she thought that she had rid herself of those desires she'd had as a child. She was an adult now, she knew better. Or at least, she thought she did. No right-minded woman would trade everything she had gained for a job working at UA.

Her research and skills were incomparable. There were many who would have killed to be in the position that she was, and she'd worked so hard for what she now had_. _International recognition was so close she could taste it, fame and fortune from her research and prowess were right around the corner. She would be crazy to let that slip through her fingers. It was everything she had ever wanted…wasn't it?

Yet Miya had still called in sick today so that she could go and interview with the Principal of UA, a certain Mr. Nezu. Her mind was spinning as she thought about it. Her life had just turned one hundred and eighty degrees, all due to one man who looked as if he hadn't slept properly in a decade.

She sighed again, swinging her legs out of bed to pad quietly towards the bathroom and start her morning routine. She took her time as she showered and styled her long hair. The young doctor wore it half up and half down today when she realized her normal hairstyle might look a bit severe, foregoing the tight and low bun she usually wore.

She figured it would look more natural, a perfect mix of professional and a look that conveyed an open air to her. There was a certain look that one had to emulate when interviewing in the medical sector – one would need to convey a sense of perfection and attention to small details in their manor of dress, speech, and appearance. Perfectly groomed, no wrinkles, and confident speech.

She was willing to bet a principal for a school of heroes wasn't quite as concerned about what clothes she wore or how she styled her hair. She had a feeling it would be her heart and intentions being scrutinized – not what brand names she was wearing or how presentable her appearance was.

It was refreshing to think about.

Miya emerged fully dressed to the smell of a traditional Japanese breakfast being cooked by her grandfather. She smiled at the familiar scent.

It was their unspoken agreement – he cooked breakfast and she cooked dinner. He was getting much older now, and his arthritis pained him and made him crankier than normal, but he still insisted on making her a hearty breakfast in the mornings.

He was so proud of her, so proud of how far she had advanced in the medical field at such a young age, so proud that she had been obedient and followed the path he chose for her.

'_It's better this way.'_

She frowned softly as she stepped out of her room and made her way to the kitchen. He was going to be so upset with her, and she thought it best to wait and see if she actually got the job before saying anything.

This was the second secret she had ever kept from him, and it was to do with the same school that had made her lie the first time. Funny how those things worked. Ten years had passed since she failed her entrance exams, but she once again felt like an unsure teenager as she sat down at their kitchen table.

"Good morning, 'Jii-chan." She called as she helped to set the table. He grunted in acknowledgement as he normally did.

"What will you do today, Dr. Tanaka?" He asked as they sat down together and said a brief 'itadakimasu'.

It was tradition. Every morning she left for work he asked this question, excited to hear what she was doing in her research and happy to listen to her talk about her schedule. It was one of the few times she saw him smile throughout the day. Hearing Miya talk about what she did at work and what her schedule looked like brought him happiness.

She suspected it reminded him of her father. There were many times she wondered if he used to ask Tanaka Hayato the same question over breakfast as well.

"I'll be heading to the labs." She was surprised at how easily the lie left her lips. "I need to check the growth on my latest skin graft and finish some clinical notes from yesterday. I was invited to sit in on a surgery, but I haven't decided if I'll go or not."

_Translation: I'm going to go and interview for the chance to follow my childhood dream, and there's nothing you can do that will stop me this time. I'm prepared to give up everything I spent the last ten years working for._

He nodded, pleased at her answer, completely unaware of her lie. She fought the urge to sigh in relief. They ate in silence after that.

"Make your parents proud today, my girl." He spoke with pride in his eyes as she put on her shoes at the entrance of the apartment.

She couldn't meet his eyes, she could already feel the guilt eating at her. Still, Miya did not relent. She gave a nod and a small smile before setting out.

The train ride was long, longer than what she expected. Musutafu was a large city, and the population just kept booming, which meant the trains ran nonstop and were almost always full. She sat with her interview portfolio clutched tightly to her chest, sandwiched between a man talking about his shares in the stock market on his cellphone and a woman with a crying baby.

UA was large and the grounds even larger, and it had its very own metro station to ease transportation of all the students who came from various parts of the city. When she stepped off the train, she was left directly in front of the student dorms, a large and luxurious looking set of buildings that looked as though they were still under construction.

She recognized Principal Nezu immediately from the various internet searches she had spent hours pouring over the night before. It looked as though he had been waiting for her.

Suddenly, she felt nervous, which was a strange feeling indeed.

Miya had always been confident when pushing forward in the medical field or interviewing for positions. She was confident in her intellect and ability, but now she didn't feel that confidence. It was as if it had slipped away from her.

She realized with a start why she felt so anxious.

_I'm nervous because I actually want this job, because this is my old dream coming back to life. I'm scared I'll be rejected again._

She took a breath and started forward.

Pleasantries were exchanged and small talk was made as she was given a tour of the extensive grounds before they made their way to the meeting room where her interview would take place. The little mouse hero was more than kind as he answered her questions and told her a brief history of the school and their mission. She felt herself sweating nervously as the door was opened for her and she stepped inside.

She faltered when she saw him.

Aizawa Shouta. He was here too, sitting behind a table with three other pro heroes and most likely here to help oversee the interview.

She felt her cheeks heat in utter mortification. Just yesterday she had addressed him with the assumption that he was homeless, when in fact he was a pro hero and the one who had personally recommended her. And now he would be helping to decide whether she got to take the next step towards the life she wanted for herself or not.

She fought the urge to turn and bolt from the room.

It was enough embarrassment to last a lifetime. She prayed to any and every deity that he hadn't been offended, because that was certainly not the best introduction she could have made – answering the door looking like a mess and asking him if he had missed the homeless clinic.

Miya felt her insides clench. She might have died from embarrassment, but Principal Nezu spoke, directing her thoughts away from her inner turmoil.

"Please, take a seat, Dr. Tanaka."

She did as she was told, seating herself carefully in the chair that had been set for her on the opposite side of the table. She had never felt so nervous in her life.

The first ten minutes or so were silent, as her information and portfolio was passed between the heroes. She recognized Recovery Girl and Aizawa immediately. Next to Aizawa sat a man who she recognized as the hero 'Present Mic', and next to him sat an imposing looking hero who she recalled as 'Vlad King'.

She was suddenly very grateful she had spent so many hours the night before researching the heroes who compromised the staff of UA. She had committed their names and quirks to memory.

"I hope you don't mind, but I've asked four staff members here as well to help conduct the interview." President Nezu started in a mild and complacent tone. "It will be up to Recovery Girl to make the final decision, but these three will be asking you questions based on their positions regarding your nomination. You currently have two votes for you, one undecided, and one against you."

Miya nodded, unable to find her voice.

"If there are no further questions, let us begin. You may start, Yamada-sensei."

The exuberant hero smiled, his voice louder than normal, though she supposed it was natural given his quirk. She made a note to match the surname Yamada to his hero codename of Present Mic.

"A very impressive file! How many years of experience do you have in hands-on healing?" He asked with a large grin that made her shrink a bit, jumping straight in to the questioning with no introduction or small talk beforehand.

She hadn't expected him to be so forward, and Miya was now sure that her original assumptions about this interview being much different than a regular one was correct.

"Almost four. I have two years of solo surgical procedure so far. I've been on clinical rotations at the local hospital for three years and volunteer at a clinic for the homeless as well." She answered robotically, feeling the nervousness slowly ebbing from her.

Nothing relaxed her more than talking about medicine.

"And how hard is it for you to heal many people at one time? Does your quirk have any limitation to it?"

Miya nodded seriously, explaining the finer details of her quirk to the man that looked like a ray of sunshine and had a personality to match.

"It does, it's just like using a muscle – it can tear or tire if overused. I need to rest for a few moments after using it, but as long as I'm not doing something like mending bones or regenerating organs I can heal about ten to fifteen people in one sitting. Larger injuries take longer to heal and take a bigger toll on my body though."

"Very good, very good! Color me impressed!" He praised, flashing his teeth as he leaned forward and asked another question. "Would you say that you think fast in an emergency?"

Did she work fast in an emergency? She fought the urge to smile. Spending the last few years with her surgical residency in a high-rated trauma care hospital had all but destroyed her nerves to the point she felt numb to an extent when practicing medicine. It was emergencies, risky procedures, and guts on the floor from the moment her shift started until it was over.

In fact, this interview was the most nervous she had felt in a very long time.

"I'm confident in my abilities as a medical care provider." She replied steadily, and the loud man with yellow hair sat back, satisfied at her answer. "I've had two years of surgical experience in the ER, and that takes a lot of quick decision making."

The most senior among them in age spoke next, and she felt more at ease at the next round of questions.

"You've made quite a name for yourself already." Recovery Girl intoned, voice made rich with age and wavering slightly. "Are you willing to give up that status? If you are seeking fame and glory, you won't find it here. You'll be expected to put the students and their health above yourself and whatever goals you may have for your own research and advancement." She warned, eyeing the young woman in front of her with eyes unblinking.

"I'm prepared for that." Again, Miya surprised herself with that answer. She knew it had come from her heart, and not the more logical side of her mind that told her that she would be demoting herself and making a bad career choice. But her answer was honest, and it reflected a part of herself that had not been allowed to speak for a decade now. "I'm not seeking fame and fortune."

The ghost of a small smile graced the woman's wrinkled lips, and she nodded slowly towards the next hero.

It was the imposing hero, Vlad King, this time, and she could tell immediately by his expression alone that he must have been the one opposed to her recommendation. He did not look impressed. In fact, she would even go so far as to say he looked somewhat upset at her presence here, though she could not fathom why.

"You failed your entrance exams ten years ago." The large man rumbled. "What proof can you offer us that you're cut out to work in this type of environment? You failed once, but there were no stakes in it for you. If you fail again in the future, you'll have the lives of our students in your hands. We won't tolerate failure when the wellbeing of our students is at risk."

Miya felt her eyes widen somewhat. His question had been a bit on the harsh side, as if assuming that she would fail no matter what. It didn't take much for her to figure out that he did not believe she was capable of the position she was interviewing for.

But it was a valid question, she could not argue it. Miya knew that by asking it that the man cared deeply for the students here, and tried not to take his suspicion to heart.

She felt uncomfortable at the intense look he was sending her, and she was unable to hold his eye contact, instead glancing down at her hands as she wrung them nervously in her lap.

"Objection!" Yelled Present Mic, or Yamada-sensei, as he was known here. "I object! It's clear that she failed because her quirk isn't offense-based! I rest my case!"

"This isn't a courtroom, you may speak normally." Came Nezu's mild reminder to the outburst. "His question is valid. I, personally, would care to hear the answer. I have another question to add as well: what does failure mean to you, Dr. Tanaka?"

_Failure?_

She glanced towards Aizawa, who was not looking at her. Instead, he thumbed silently through the portfolio she had brought, eyes flitting between words and pictures. He did not look up when she finally found the words to respond with.

"Failure is…" She lost her voiced and swallowed hard, the idea weighing heavily on her mind and making her tongue feel heavy in her mouth.

She knew what failure was. In a medical setting, the doctor's scalpel became a gavel and each life became a trial, and failure meant the loss of a life.

In her years of practicing medicine, she had lost two patients on the operating table, and she would never forgive herself for the mistakes made that led to their deaths.

It had torn her apart from the inside out, and there were many times her nightmares often revolved around the decisions she had made that had led to a tragic result.

She had lost an expecting mother to preeclampsia when she failed to see the symptoms until it was too late, and she had lost a man during an organ transplant when his heart had given out during surgery, his body too weak to handle the surgery that she had pushed for.

Her mistakes had cost two people their lives, but such were the ways of medicine. Every doctor lost patients, it was just the way things worked. But they never forgot, and they never forgave themselves.

She knew what failure was. She was accomplished, but she was not a god. She had made mistakes that had grievous results. Her tone was sullen when she answered.

"In a medical setting, failure means the loss of a patient. I've lost two from my own errors, and their deaths are ones that I will never be able to compensate for. I won't lie about the mistakes I've made."

The large hero on the other side of the table harrumphed loudly, obviously unsatisfied with her answer.

"You see?" The hulking man crossed his arms as he addressed his peers. "I don't believe she's cut out for the job. How can we entrust our students to someone who has no hero experience and hasn't properly provided for her patients?"

Her hands tightened into fists in her lap, and she bit her tongue to keep her emotional retort locked inside her mouth. She took a calming breath, determined not to let it show that his remark had hurt her.

It was then that Aizawa spoke up, lazily looking towards the elderly woman at his left and finally speaking his piece to break the tense silence that had followed his fellow teacher's accusation.

"If it's not too invasive a question, Recovery Girl, I'd like to ask how many patients you've lost in your experience."

Recovery Girl nodded, immediately catching on to the subtle point he was attempting to convey by asking that question.

"In all my years, I've lost twenty-seven." She stated grimly, looking from Aizawa to the young doctor in front of her with a knowing look. "I remember each of them. Loss is an unavoidable tragedy, but it is one that should not cloud this decision-making process. She will lose more patients, as I have. Doctors and healers are not gods, nor do we hold supreme control over the lives of our patients. We do our best, but there are times it is not enough."

She spoke with the wisdom of many years, like a sage of sorts. The angry looking hero scowled, but did not argue again. It was clear he did not agree but respected her age and authority enough not to say anything else.

"Do you have any questions, Aizawa-sensei?" The mouse-like principal asked next, which prompted the man to incline his head slightly, looking towards the woman sitting across the table from him with a sharp gaze.

"Only one." He intoned quietly, pausing as he locked eyes with the doctor. They held each other's' eye a moment longer before he asked his question. "Why did you apply to UA ten years ago?"

Miya felt her lips quirk upwards in a smile she could not hide as the question registered on her ears.

She glanced between the interview panel with confidence this time, sure in her answer and feeling the same determination as fresh as she had felt it ten years prior.

"I wanted to be a hero." She said strongly, tone full of conviction and brown eyes sparkling with a fire that was rarely ignited in her after so many years of suppressing that dream. "My parents gave me a quirk that has the ability to do so much good, but they were killed by a villain when I was a child. I wanted to become a hero so nobody else would have to grow up without their parents like I did. I want to help in the fight against the villains."

And there it was.

Out in the open, after ten years of bottling it in as her grandfather force fed her the dreams he thought were better for her. She couldn't help how her smile spread further over her face at the feeling. She felt more like herself right now, in this instance, than she had in years.

She saw a flash of approval in the eyes of Recovery Girl, and Principal Nezu nodded happily to what she had just admitted.

"I see." He said. "Are there any further questions?"

None were voiced.

"Then we will move forward in our decision-making process. You can expect to hear from us in one to two weeks –"

"Unnecessary." Recovery Girl cut into Nezu's speech with a sharp word and a sly smile. "I choose her. You have my blessing."

Miya blinked at the woman in shock. Surely she had misheard the elderly woman. There had to have been other applications to look at, other interviews to hold. Why would she make a snap decision like that?

"Is that so? Then I believe our decision is made." Nezu chuckled favorably, seemingly pleased with her words. "How soon can you start, Dr. Tanaka?"

She gaped for a moment, moving her mouth without words accompanying it. Finally, she remembered herself and found her voice.

"N-next Monday!" She stuttered in excitement and awe, not having realized how quickly things might proceed.

This was certainly the strangest interview she had ever been to.

"Wonderful!" Nezu clapped his paws together happily. "Then we will expect you at six-thirty in the morning! I have a contract for you here, I had a feeling we might need it. Welcome to UA, Dr. Tanaka!"

Nezu set the contract and a pen on the table, pushing both into her vicinity. Time seemed to slow as the paper and pen were set in front of her. She took a moment to eye the school's logo on top of the contract, eyes skimming the work agreement that was laid out in front of her.

Could she really do it? Could she really abandon everything she had worked so hard for on a whim of some noble dream she'd never been able to get rid of?

Before her brain could tell her no, before logic could interfere with her thought process, before she could remind herself that she already had a good job and there was no need to throw it away, she picked up the pen and signed her signature in shaky strokes.

Her heart beat much faster than normal as she set the pen back down and pushed the signed document back towards the principal. She had just sealed her fate. That piece of paper that held her signature was a legally binding contract, there was no turning back.

_Oh my gosh. _Reality came crashing down hard. _My grandfather is going to murder me. _

But she could not bring herself to regret her decision. In fact, she felt a type of joy inside her heart that she had forgotten was possible feel. It was all hard to comprehend, and she felt somewhat lost in the sensation and emotion of it all.

How long had she shoved herself inside the mold of what her grandfather wanted her to be? How long had she suppressed her own desires to live her own life? How long had she convinced herself that she was happy with being a doctor and unable to use her quirk to its full capacity, that she didn't need or want any heroics?

Too long - that was the answer she came to. For too long she had pretended she was content, even fooling herself along the way.

Principal Nezu's voice cut into her spiraling thoughts.

"You'll need intense instruction before you can apply for your provisional license. You have years of information and training to catch up on. So, I've made the decision that you'll spend half your day in the recovery ward training with Recovery Girl to take over her position, and the rest of the day will be spent training with a regular hero when the students are involved in the normal state curricula classes."

She nodded complacently. It made sense. Compared to the other staff members and pro heroes at this school, she fell so far behind them it was laughable. It was a big pill to swallow. This was the first time she had ever _not_ been the best at something, the first time she had ever found herself at any position other than the top. Now, she was at the very bottom of the totem pole, even falling behind the high school students.

It felt odd to her, unnatural, and she wasn't sure she liked it. She had a lot of learning to catch up on.

"You will likely never become a full-fledged hero who works with an agency, but you _will_ become a pillar to this school and our mission. Does that satisfy you, Dr. Tanaka? You will, of course, be granted funds to continue your research. Such groundbreaking studies would bring good publicity to the school."

Again, she nodded with a small smile. She would be helping to train the next generation, healing and teaching and contributing everything she had to making this world a better place with the quirk she had been blessed with. And they would even fund her research! What more could she want? It was like a dream come true.

This, this was what she had dreamed of. She could become the hero she always dreamed of, even if her role would be on the sidelines. She could use her quirk to the best of her abilities with a provisional license, without the restrictive rules and regulation of the hospital. She could use her quirk to help others, so no child would ever have to grow up without parents.

Her thoughts came to a screeching halt when Nezu spoke up again.

"Aizawa-sensei, you will be in charge of instructing her while she studies and trains. I leave her in your hands. She's your responsibility now, yours and Recovery Girl's."

The man only blinked owlishly, as if he had not heard his higher-up correctly. A long moment of silence passed until he spoke, his tone expressing his disdain.

"Sir?" His voice sounded like gravel, and though he was politely asking why this decision had been made, it was clear to Miya that he was less than happy with this decision.

"You _are_ the one who recommended her after all!" Nezu went on merrily. "Since you are so confidant in her abilities, it's only logical. Without a provisional license, she will need the permission and endorsement of a pro hero to be able to use her quirk. I find you the most capable for that responsibility since Recovery Girl has announced her retirement and will now be unable to provide that permission."

Miya stared at the principal in incredulity. Her wide-eyed gaze flit back and forth between the shaggy haired hero and the principal.

Aizawa glanced at the woman, gaze unreadable. She had a sinking suspicion he was not too happy about this arrangement, but respected the chain of command to a point where he didn't argue.

She wondered if it was because she had insulted him by insinuating he was homeless. It was fair, she supposed. she might have been upset as well if someone had said the same to her.

"As you wish, sir." He finally yielded, unable to avoid the demands of his superior. He broke their gaze to stare back down at her portfolio again, looking like he would have rather been anywhere else.

"Then it's decided!" He stood on his chair and bowed formally towards Miya, and she stood hastily to return it. "Thank you for your time, Dr. Tanaka. We look forward to working with you. Aizawa-sensei will see you back towards the train station."

And with that, along with a few congratulations and farewells, it was just her and the man she had accidentally insulted the day before.

He didn't meet her gaze, and instead started out the door, beckoning her to follow wordlessly with a small motion of his hand.

The walk towards the train station was tangibly uncomfortable for her, and she chewed nervously on her lower lip as she struggled to keep up with his longer legs. He said nothing, and the only sound that could be heard were the nearly silent footfalls of his black boots and the soft padding of her ballet flats.

"Aizawa-sensei-" She started after having finally gathered the courage to say something and break the silence that hung thick between them.

"Just Aizawa is fine." He spoke plainly, tone free of any emotion.

"Oh, yes, of course! Well, I suppose that makes sense since it looks like we'll be working closely together. No need for formalities, right? You can call me Miya if you want. Oh, but you only offered your surname for me to use. Would you prefer to use my surname instead? I don't really have a preference, so you can just use whichever name you want." She snapped her mouth shut upon realizing how flustered she sounded.

She was rambling, a nervous habit of hers, but she just couldn't help it. She felt keenly uncomfortable at knowing that he had been forced into being a mentor of sorts for her as she adjusted to her new position. The doctor bit the insides of her cheeks in embarrassment. There was no doubt he probably thought she was an idiot.

They continued in silence.

Internally, she was kicking herself. This was by far the worst first impression she had ever made on somebody, especially on a future colleague she was supposed to be working with, one who would be responsible for her training.

As they came upon the train station, he stopped and spoke seriously, ignoring her previous rambling and delivering to her a stark warning.

"I won't go easy on you. I'll make sure to put you through hell and back to get you caught up, don't expect anything less. You have a powerful healing quirk, but you've still got a long way to go and a lot to learn before you're ready to play with the big kids."

Miya frowned. She couldn't tell if that was a fact, a threat, a promise, or an insult. Perhaps it was a bit of all four rolled into one.

She stood stonily at his side now as the train approached, right on time.

"I wouldn't expect anything less. You challenged me to prove you wrong, right?" She asked, glancing up at his blood shot eyes as the train slowed to a stop and the doors to the passenger cars opened. "I will, that's a promise."

She took her leave after responding to his challenge with one of her own, not exchanging any pleasantries or farewells. He didn't seem like the type of man who wanted to be bothered with such things.

As the doors to the train closed and separated the two of them, he caught her eye again.

"I'll hold you to that, Miya."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N - Alright friends, let's get this show on the road! Let me know what you think in the comments, I usually do my best to respond to the reviews. Right now I'm re-watching BNHA in English dub and am pleasantly surprised, I think they did a good job with the voices, it's actually enjoyable. Do you guys prefer dub or sub?**

**Anyway, I enjoyed writing this chapter because Miya starts to get a backbone and stand up for herself, and Gramps had it coming haha.**

**Enjoy!**

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.

"I quit my job."

Her grandfather's chopsticks fell from his hands and clattered atop the wooden surface of their dining table, and he looked at her as though she had suddenly grown three heads.

"I don't think I heard you correctly, Miya-chan." He voiced suspiciously, leaning forward to get a better look at his granddaughter from across their traditional chabudai table. "Would you please repeat yourself?"

Miya suddenly found the grooves in the oak wood of the table far more fascinating than her grandfather's gaze. Underneath the table, she was wringing her hands raw.

She was twenty-four, turning twenty-five in a few weeks, but she felt like she was fourteen again, sitting in front of her grandfather with the results of her failed UA entrance exam and sweating like a pig. But this time she hadn't failed; she had succeeded, and she would not turn back.

Tanaka Junichi was sure he had heard her say 'I quit my job', but that couldn't possibly be correct. He must have been going deaf in his old age.

"I – I quit my – I quit…"

He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed at her flustered stuttering.

"Speak clearly, my girl. These ears aren't as good as they used to be."

She bit her lip nervously before taking a large breath.

"IappliedforajobatUAandtheyacceptedmesoIquitmyjobtodayand-"

"Miya-chan, I can't understand you. What is this about your job?" He demanded, growing more and more impatient and suspicious by the second.

She clamped her mouth shut, taking in a deep breath before exhaling slowly, looking deep within herself to attempt to gather the courage she was going to need for this conversation.

Miya focused on that old dream of hers, picturing it clearly in her mind. It gave her a renewed sense of confidence and she proceeded forward. She could do this.

"I was offered a job through UA. I accepted it and quit my job at the hospital." She stated, looking him dead in the eye this time and speaking clearly. She spoke with confidence. She was an adult. She could do this. "I start next Monday. I'll be training to get a provisional hero's license and to take over the role of the head of the recovery ward when she retires. I'm going to follow my dream."

She searched his gaze desperately, but his eyes were clouded. She was unable to get a good read on him. Any second now she was positive he would snap. He was going to explode, she just knew it.

"I'll still be on call for the hospital on the weekends and holidays. The agreement is that I'll be called in for special cases but not on the roster for daily rotations - so I can be at UA during the day." She added in a small voice, hoping that it might help to cushion the blow.

She would still be a doctor…just not working full time at a surgical hospital.

"You quit your job." He repeated her own words back to her, startlingly calm.

"Yes." She affirmed softly, eyeing him in apprehension of an angry outburst.

"You accepted a job at UA, even though I've forbidden you from having anything to do with that school or any heroes."

"Yes."

"And now you're going to work at a high school for quirked brats instead of the best hospital in the city? You're going to quit a good job to go heal a bunch of troublemakers?"

"Yes."

"You'll get a license to use that _ability _of yours?" He spat the word as if it were a foul curse.

"Yes."

"And there's nothing I can say that will deter you from self-sabotaging yourself and ruining your career?"

"…No."

A lengthy pause stretched between them, and the two found themselves at an impasse for the first time in years.

"This is…This is what I want for myself. It's been my dream for as long as I can remember. I have to do this. I _want_ to do this." Miya spoke up, words becoming stronger and more passionate as she spoke. "I gave up before and did what you told me to, but now there's an opportunity right in front of me and I'm going to take it."

"But what about your career as a doctor?" Junichi tried desperately, clinging to the last bit of hope that she would just live normally, that they could just be normal. "It's been what you wanted to do since you were little!"

The truth was, he was scared, and Miya could see it clearly in his eyes. He didn't want her to have anything to do with quirks or heroes or villains. If he lost her too, he would truly be all alone in this world, and he wouldn't be able to survive it if anything happened to her.

There wasn't a day that went by that her grandfather didn't think of his son and wife, both gone from the tragedy that quirks had brought them. All quirks were good for was the spreading of misfortune in his mind, and he couldn't bear to think of her in an environment exposed to heroes and villains.

He could not allow it, he would not allow it.

Or so he thought.

"No, 'Jii-chan. That was _your_ dream, but you have to let me have my own." She said, her voice breaking and eyes wetting. "You want me to be just like Otou-san, but I'm not him! Pushing your own selfish desires onto me won't bring him back!"

It was so quiet that a pin dropping could have been as loud as a roar of thunder.

There. She had said it. The thought that had been present in her mind for years, though she had never had the courage to voice it out loud – until now.

She clapped her hands over her mouth as soon as the words left her lips, regret already pooling in her stomach. A few tears escaped her eyes when she saw the hurt painted over her grandfather's face. She had rubbed salt into an old wound that had never healed for him.

But what made her feel even worse was that she wouldn't take it back, even if she could. She meant every word she'd just said, even if it had hurt him.

Her grandfather stood wordlessly from the table and retreated into his room without looking back.

More tears slipped from her eyes as she buried her face in her hands with a low groan. She hadn't thought this conversation would be easy to have, but she found herself wholly unprepared for the emotional turmoil it brought with it.

Even so, she wouldn't turn back.

Suddenly, without warning, the door to her grandfather's room opened again, and she looked up with a small sniffle as the old man shuffled back out. He took a seat next to her once more, bones creaking with age as he sat and placed a leather-bound journal on top of the table.

She looked between a worn face and the dusty journal in question. Her grandfather sighed, and reached to brush off the thick layer of dust that had settled on top of the journal.

Wordlessly, he opened the old leather memoir. Inside the pages were pictures, very old pictures. Taking a shuddering breath, he spoke.

"This is your grandmother and I on our wedding day. It was the first day I saw her in person. Isn't she beautiful?" He sighed longingly, tracing a finger over their portrait. Miya studied the photo she had never seen before in confusion. "You have her eyes, you know."

Miya stared at the image of both her grandparents, hardly looking any older than she was. Her grandmother was indeed lovely, and her grandfather almost unrecognizable in his youth.

"When we were growing up, quirks were very unusual. Times were easier then, at least before the war."

He flipped the page.

"This is Hayato on his first birthday, he cried the entire day because he had an ear infection. Kiyoko cried with him too, she hated seeing her baby upset."

Another page was flipped.

"Here he is hanging his wish on the Tanabata tree. And here we are all together at the shrine for lunar New Years. Kiyoko always made fresh Mochi that day. Her mochi was the best."

A page was flipped.

"Here he is on his first day of medical school, look how happy he was…"

Miya watched in astonishment, devouring the pictures of her family that she had never seen before. She had come to believe that these pictures didn't exist. Her grandfather didn't display any family pictures in the house, claiming it was too painful for him.

Her eyes widened when she saw the woman on the next page.

"This is your mother and your father on their wedding day. It's the only picture I have of Laleh." He informed her solemnly, pulling the picture out of its place and handing it to her.

_Laleh_?

Her gaze narrowed in on the exotic looking woman in the photo, so very similar to herself in demeanor and appearance. Her breath hitched in her lungs as she eyed the woman she had never been allowed to speak of or ask about. The topic of her mother had always been off limits to her. It was the first time she had ever seen a picture of her mother.

But now she was here, staring at a photograph and listening to her grandfather speak.

She recognized her father immediately, looking smart in a well-tailored suit. Her mother, however, wore a heavily embroidered and colorful tunic and loose cotton pants underneath, the ensemble seeming foreign to Miya.

"She was Persian, had a quirk that helped her grow things. They met and married in just three months. You were born a year later."

_Laleh_. The name tasted strange on her tongue, but it was comfortable. Miya wasn't even sure she could point out Iran on a map. She knew little to nothing about the country and its inhabitants, yet their blood flowed through her veins.

She let her gaze drift to her own arms, eyeing the tanned flesh that matched her mother's skin tone. Pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. She had always known, from a medical standpoint, that the extra melanin in her skin had probably come from her mother, for her father's family was very pale. Now she knew her assumptions had been correct.

"Why are you showing me these?" Was all Miya managed to choke out, unable to look away from the beautiful blue-haired woman in the photograph.

"I'm showing you these so you can understand what I've lost. Villains, heroes, and quirks – they took our family away from us. We'll never get them back. Nothing good comes from using quirks or chasing villains, all it brings is pain in the end."

Miya sighed.

How could she continue to argue him like this? The man had lost just about everything he had ever cared about, and she could see his pain clearly. He was scared of losing her, she saw that now. It wasn't just about a hatred of quirks and their users, it was about a hatred of what they had brought him – nothing but misery, loss, and destruction.

She glanced at the woman in the picture again. It was obvious they were related; the similarities ran deep. She wondered if her mother would have supported her choice to work at UA if she was still alive. She liked to think she would have.

Miya wasn't quite sure what to say. She had already signed her contract and put in her notice at work, there was no going back. Her spur of the moment decision of the heart was one that was now signed and in writing, a legally binding contract that she could not back out of even if she wanted to. It was pointless to argue.

And she would go no matter what he said. It was something she should have done years ago, living and thinking for herself. It was her own life, she had a right to choose what she did with it. She felt ashamed that it had taken her twenty-four years to realize that.

Apparently, this was something her grandfather also realized now.

He surprised her with what he said next.

"I'm only scared for you, I only wanted the best. But I never meant to take away your freedom." His breath shuddered as he exhaled, the old man brimming with many emotions. "I should have known you would never give up that ridiculous dream."

"I'm sorry for lying to you. I'll be open and honest from now on." She found herself blurting out suddenly. "But I can't apologize for pursuing this. I won't give this up. I'm going to make my own way from now on."

Junichi nodded despite his displeasure at hearing her bold statement. He suddenly felt very old in that instance. He felt defeated.

"I hope you understand why I can't support this decision." He wheezed, coughing a few times before continuing. "I tried my best, but you turned out just like your foolish parents. Just promise me I won't have to bury you too."

That last remark was enough to bring fresh tears to both their eyes.

She promised him.

.

* * *

.

The week had passed agonizingly slow.

Her grandfather was refusing to speak at her or look her in the eye, but she wasn't too bothered by it. He would come around in time, he always did. Besides, she had been too busy at the hospital to hardly notice a thing over the last week, as she tied up all her loose ends of her job and made sure to patent her research and see to the last few patients she still had left.

It had been a long week, but it was finally over. In two days, she would start her new job at UA. Until then, however, she would study.

She sat cross-legged on the floor of her room with many books and her laptop opened in front of her. The books were thick, all of them new with crisp pages.

The prodigy doctor had gone to her local bookstore and ran up quite the bill. She had bought books on a variety of subjects that touched on the history of heroes and quirks, medical books on healing quirks and quirks and their applications, and a few books on Persian culture and language that she had bought on a whim after seeing them displayed in the 'world cultures' section.

Miya had a week before she started work at UA when their new term started, and she was still on the roster for emergencies at the hospital for the week until her contract with them was terminated in December.

It was part of the agreement that they had come to – they respected her choice in career change, but still wanted her to help take part in the more important surgeries and research when she had time. But there were no emergencies today, nor any surgeries or medical crises to attend to, so she was studying instead.

Her new colleague and soon-to-be mentor, Aizawa Shouta, had made it clear that they would hit the ground running on Monday.

She had a feeling the man hadn't been exaggerating in his promise, and Miya wanted to be prepared. It didn't sit well with her that he was going to be burdened with her instruction on top of the new class he would soon be receiving.

It was too much work for any teacher or hero, and it was her hope that she could help ease that load by taking some responsibility and really digging into her research on her quirk and what it meant to be a hero, hopefully decreasing the amount of knowledge he would need to impart to her.

The new school year would start the same day she began her first day of work, and she would be darned if she slowed anyone down.

But she would be lying if that wasn't the only reason she was so committed to giving this her all. She had a competitive streak to her, one that had been ignited when Aizawa insinuated how hard her training was going to be after having dared her to prove him wrong.

She would prove him wrong, and that Mr. Vlad King too. She'd show them all. She would prove that she had what it took to become a hero and an important part of UA like the rest of them.

…Hopefully.

Because she was not licensed to use her quirk in the same way that heroes were, she had never used it in full capacity before. That sort of thing was against the rules. She had never seen herself operating without restriction, and there were many areas of her quirk that she had never had the opportunity to explore before.

When she worked in the hospital the senior staff had been extremely strict on allowing doctors with quirks to use them in their treatment methods. She had needed to submit a petition in order to use her abilities first, then consult with lawyers, and finally have the patient sign a contract that consented to her using her quirk in any procedure or surgery. There had been so many legal hurdles and red tape involved that it had been a nightmare.

In fact, more often than not she had only used her quirk during research trials and not on living humans.

At least not in a hospital setting; she eventually found a loophole in the system that allowed her to expand upon her abilities without getting in trouble for unauthorized procedures or using her quirk on others without permission from authorities.

Miya was certain that her actions might not have been completely legal, but she had wanted to practice and refine her healing abilities, and she still didn't regret bending the rules to do that.

In the homeless clinic she volunteered at, there were no legal authorities she abided by, and it was often she healed anything from small scrapes to broken bones under the table and free of charge. It was good practice, but even that had never allowed her to make use of her full capabilities.

But she was excited at what this new work opportunity presented her. She would now be allowed to use her quirk without needing to show restraint. She would soon come to know her true limits and capabilities.

Miya wondered what she would discover when she really put her all into it under the guidance of pro heroes, the idea excited her.

Her mind drifted again to her mother, as it had been doing recently since having seen her picture for the first time.

She pondered upon the idea of her mother's quirk, one that had helped organic matter like plants to grow if her grandfather had been telling the truth. What she wouldn't give to have more information on Laleh's quirk, or even just on Laleh in general.

She eyed a potted vine plant on the top of her book shelf in interest as she thought about her mother. After a few moments of consideration, she closed her laptop and went to retrieve the plant before sitting back down on the floor in her mess of books, research articles, and random leaflets of paper.

Miya let her fingers graze gently over the waxy leaves of the vine plant, feeling the soft energy of her quirk activating within her body as she willed it to the surface.

She loved that feeling, there was nothing else quite like it. The high she got from using her quirk was a feeling that words could not convey, something that felt natural and comfortable.

It was like warm honey traveling through her veins, hot and sweet. It was a comforting sensation, one that was soft and inviting. As she trailed her fingers over the plant, her hands began to glow softly like they always would, and she closed her eyes in concentration.

In her mind she could see it clearly, the light from her own life force mixing and intermingling with that of the plant. With that light she spurred it onward, allowing some of that sweet energy to leave her finger tips and be absorbed by the molecules of the plant.

Her eyebrows furrowed as the plant came to life beneath her hands, responding to her call for growth. She encouraged it onward, eyes still shut as she shared her energy with the specimen of flora. Time seemed to slow, and she felt as though she was now stationed on a plane of existence where the passing of seconds and minutes no longer mattered.

It was an experiment of sorts, one that she had tried a few times but had never truly given it her all on. This time she wanted to know: how far could she go?

Perhaps it wasn't wise to attempt it without the guidance of a pro hero nearby, but she was curious, and she had lived too long without knowing just what she might be capable of.

She gave and gave, pushing the plant past its boundaries and leaving the known territory of what she had ever experienced. After some time, she felt it - a subtle twinge inside her spirit, almost like a stitch in your side when you ran too long. Miya was certain it was a warning from her body to stop before she went too far.

Her skin was cold and clammy, and the coppery scent filling her nostrils indicated her nose must be bleeding.

She opened her eyes, eyelashes fluttering blearily as her vision came into focus.

"Oh…" She trailed off in amazement as she absentmindedly rubbed at her nose, the only response she could muster in her shock.

The vines had spread, and they now covered every inch of her room in a gnarly and twisted mess. They creeped over the walls, hung from the ceilings, and completely covered her floor and bed. She could no longer see her laptop or books underneath the thick greenery.

_I did this?_

She gawked at the growth, before having the sense to check the clock on her bedside table.

18:36.

She had been growing vines for the last hour and a half.

Miya attempted to stand, but suddenly felt dizzy and immediately fell back down upon her rear. Despite the dizziness and headache that had formed from overusing her quirk for too long, she smiled, the grin splitting her face in exhilaration and wonder.

In her excitement, she dug through the vines that covered her bedside table until she found the picture that she had placed there.

She leaned back and onto a cushion of thick vines that covered the floor of her room once she had the photograph in her grasp, relaxing into the soft blanket of greenery and holding the picture above her head. She lay there and took in every detail she could of the photograph, grinning stupidly to herself.

She was surprised her grandfather had let her keep it. Especially after she had told him she would no longer conform to his idea of who she needed to be. Either way, she was grateful to have it.

The photograph was dated almost twenty-six years prior, and was yellow around the edges from the passing of time. Her father smiled softly in the picture, standing tall and proud in his western-styled suit. Her mother did not smile, nor did she frown, but the photograph did seem to capture the way her eyes looked to be twinkling in joy.

Miya sighed softly to herself, a strange emotion she could not name welling in her chest.

A photograph wasn't a lot, and it was certainly not enough to make up for the many years of having the information hidden from her, but it meant the world to Miya. She could now put a name and a face to the foggy memory she had of her mother, which wasn't much at all. Just a flash of blue and a strange melody, it was all she had of the woman named Laleh.

_No. _Miya thought to herself suddenly, eyes widening as she focused on the greenery that had taken over her room. _That's not true. I have her quirk, or part of it, at least._

Her smile widened as she let herself sink further into the vines that seemed to be curling around her in a comforting embrace, tickling her skin and crisscrossing over her body on their own.

And then, the smile slipped from her face when she realized her little predicament.

_What in the world am I going to do with all these vines?_

_._

* * *

_._

Aizawa Shouta was exhausted, and the new school year hadn't even started yet.

He'd spent the day studying the profiles and information of his new class for the upcoming semester, committing all the information to memory. The portfolios on his new students were filled with raw talent and elite prowess, perhaps more so this year than others.

He would certainly have his work cut out for him with this class; the more talented the lot, the more trouble they eventually brought with them.

It was a larger class than normal, but he doubted it would remain that way. He was notorious for expelling those who couldn't obey rules and regulation, and there was no reason to think this class would be any different than the others. He had no tolerance for rule breakers or those who could not follow the laws of society and rational logic.

He was stationed on the floor, his back up against his couch and his work spread over a wobbly coffee table that he had never bothered to fix.

He ignored a text he had just received from Hizashi, the seventh one in under a minute inviting him out to drinks and karaoke with the rest of the teaching staff. They always started the school year like that, but Aizawa preferred to spend the weekend before the start of a new semester preparing himself. It was the most logical choice, after all.

He would go through his lesson plans, memorize the information for each new student, submit his petitions for the usage of school facilities in advance, and catch up on sleep that he would eventually lose when school started.

As both a teacher and staff member at UA, as well as an underground hero who worked at night, he very rarely had the opportunity to get a full night's sleep.

Aizawa glanced up at hearing a soft 'meow' from the kitchen area of his small apartment, a vocal reminder that it was time to feed Kuro, a cat who had adopted him and not vice-versa.

He wasn't complaining though, he enjoyed Kuro's company. Cats didn't argue, weren't loud, and were preferable to the company of most humans.

He tossed one of his soon-to-be student's profiles, a certain Bakugou Katsuki, onto the table with the others. He knew well enough that if he didn't feed Kuro at precisely 19:30, the cat would start flinging sand out of his litter box in retaliation.

There weren't many things that Aizawa cared enough about to say that he either liked or disliked, but cats fell into the area of something he found he could tolerate. Even Kuro, who was not particularly kind and only cared to be held or pet on his own terms.

As he absentmindedly filled up Kuro's bowl with cat-chow, he noted the Persian blue color of the cat's collar.

He frowned when he correlated that color to the same hair color of the woman that would now be under his authority.

As if it wasn't enough to have a larger class than normal, he now had to train the girl in the afternoons as well, somehow balancing both his new class, his nightly hero duties, and her training schedule at the same time.

He fought the urge to groan, and his frown deepened. It was a large responsibility that could come with many repercussions for both him and the school if something were to go awry.

Because she was not a hero and had no hero training to begin with, she would need special permission from a pro hero to be able to use her quirk on others until she received her provisional license. That permission would have to come from him, since Recovery Girl had already retired from her hero agency and no longer had the ability to grant such authorities.

Tanaka Miya was a capable doctor, but she still had to study and test for the provisional license, just like anyone else. There were no exceptions to the rules of their society, and she would get no free passes.

Nezu seemed to think he was the most capable for the job. Aizawa could not argue, because it was the logical choice. He had been the one to recommend her, despite the fact she did not have the proper hero credentials.

He had told Nezu that he believed she was the best candidate for the position based on what he had found about her, along with her impressive intellect and previous experience in a fast-paced medical environment. He had been the one to push for it – and now it only made sense that he would have to take responsibility for her until she had her license.

Aizawa knew potential when he saw it, which was why he had insisted on his recommendation of the young doctor in the first place. He had a reputation for producing some of the best heroes to graduate from their school, and he also had a keen eye, one that could spot that type of raw and unharnessed potential that he knew she had.

So, he would take that responsibility if it meant that their school and students would be better off in the end. He would help to mold her into something great, a backbone to UA like Recovery Girl had become. Because, with as much trouble that their students attracted, along with the rigorous and dangerous curriculum, it was of the utmost importance that the students and staff had access to a capable healer.

It was absolutely necessary, and he had not argued Nezu's decision because he realized this. He would take her under his authority for that reason alone.

But having her under his authority and using her quirk with his permission also meant that if she made any horrendous mistakes or grievous errors, then he would be the one held directly responsible.

Recovery Girl would only be training her for a short few months, but that would be instruction on the medical side of things and not heroics. She would have a lot to learn in a short time span in order to catch up, and Aizawa certainly had his work cut out for him.

He rarely showed mercy on his pupils, but it garnered the results they needed. Those who could not abide by the rules or were not cut out for the program were expelled, and it was Aizawa who was known for both expelling the most students each year and producing well-rounded and capable heroes from their program at the same time.

Other teachers coddled their students, but he did not. In order to be a hero, one had to be quick, strong of heart, confidant, smart, and adherent to the rules.

Any student who survived Aizawa's unorthodox and rigorous teaching strategy and went on to graduate from UA eventually went on to become a good hero. He was hard on his students for that reason; if they could survive him, they could survive in the real world with real villains.

And he didn't care how qualified she was, how pretty she was, or how many letters of recommendation she had. He would work her until she couldn't work any longer, beat her into the ground until she couldn't stand, and push her until she exhausted herself. He would do this over and over and over again until she succeeded - just like he did with his students, so that she could make it in the real world too.

It was an unprecedented situation. He had never heard of somebody receiving the very basics of hero training later in their life, but he was glad she had been given the chance, even if it was him who would suffer for it.

It was rare for someone to test for their provisional license outside of one of the country's high school training programs, but it was not the first time it had happened.

Nezu had explained that adults with promising quirks who were tested for their license later in life would work with a pro hero for six months instead of attending training curriculum like the high school students did. It was modeled like an intensive and immersive internship program, and the aspiring hero would be tested separately from the high school students when the time came to issue a license.

It was a rigorous program that could last anywhere between six months and a year, and he would be responsible for every move she made in that timeframe. He would be the one to mold her into a hero in just a year's time – one-third of the time that their high school gave its students.

He doubted he'd be getting much rest with the extra workload and responsibility. This year would be a busy one, no doubt about it. Nezu was going to make sure he suffered.

He exhaled slowly, beginning to consider turning in early for the evening as the reality of just how busy his life would soon be started to sink in. He felt tired just thinking about it.

But one thought kept him going.

If he suffered because of this woman and his new class that was sure to be rowdy, he would make sure they all suffered right along with him.

That thought was almost enough to make him grin. Almost.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N - Jummah mubarak!**

**Quick announcement! I now have an area on my profile where you can check the status of the story to see what progress I've made on upcoming chapters and their release dates. I try to be fairly consistent with updates, usually no more than a week or two for smaller chapters like these, but if you ever want to know what stage I am in with this story the info is there for you.**

**Enjoy!**

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Miya yawned as she stepped off the train, bringing the back of her hand to cover her mouth before rubbing at her eyes.

The commute to UA was a long one, which meant that her schedule had needed to be adjusted to accommodate it. Her alarm now rang at 04:00 sharp, and there was no amount of caffeine in the world that could make that any better.

It was her first day, and she had hardly slept a wink the night before after being kept up with excited and nervous jitters. She had never felt that strange mixture of nervousness and enthusiasm mashed together like that. She supposed it was because it was the first time she was actually embarking on a path of her own choosing.

Today was the day.

Today was the day her journey began. It would all start here. She clutched her leather satchel tightly to her chest, shifting her weight between her feet in anticipation. Her lips set themselves in a thin line.

_This is it. I'm taking the first step towards my dream today. I'll write my own destiny from here on out._

She grinned as she took her first step off the train platform and towards the main building, recalling to mind the layout and where she would find the office of Recovery Girl.

It was still dark out, though the sun showed a promise of warmth and light on the horizon, the dark heavens gradually lightening to diminish the glow of the moon and stars. The air was still chilly, though it would likely be warm by midday. Miya wished she had thought to bring a cardigan; her physician's coat was not particularly thick to protect from the nip in the air that an early April morning brought.

Her walk towards the main building was brusque, and she fumbled a few moments as she pulled out her new faculty identification card to swipe it on the gates to be allowed access. There were very few people here so far – school would not start for another hour and forty-five minutes, but Miya always tried to arrive early to work.

The school itself was a marvel to behold. Miya attempted to keep herself from gawking at the grounds as she passed through them. Modern design and the newest technology meant that the inner and outer grounds were sleek, well-maintained, and quite advanced.

Stepping into the elevator, she hit the button for floor six, and was deposited on the floor in just seconds. She turned down the hall, scanning the signs above each room until she came to a large double door that had a sign above it labeled 'recovery ward'.

She paused outside the doors for a moment, taking a brief moment to let it all soak in before knocking on the door and entering upon being given permission to proceed.

"Good morning, Shuzenji-san." Miya related cordially, giving a small and polite bow towards the older woman, who only waved her hand at the well-mannered greeting.

"Good morning. You can just call me Chiyo before or after hours. While we are on duty I must insist you call me by my alias, however." She relayed with a smile, beckoning the young doctor inside. "We will need to find you an alias as well, won't we dearie?"

Miya cocked her head somewhat as she followed the elder hero into the back office she was guiding her towards. They passed by many neatly made beds, each with pristinely folded and crisp white sheets.

"I need to use an alias? I can't go by Dr. Tanaka?"

"You want to be a hero, don't you? All heroes use an alias, it's for our own protection. You won't need one right away, but you ought to start thinking about it. The students should know you by your alias in school, just like me."

_An alias, huh? _Miya thought in amazement, suddenly reminded of all the times she had played 'heroes and villains' with the neighborhood kids growing up. Except this time, it was real. _I'll have to think about that._

"Come on in and take a seat. We have some time before school starts, I'll give you a run-down before we get going. There are always many injuries on the first day of school from the hero department." Recovery Girl sighed as she rounded her desk and took her seat, needing a stepping stool to hop on top of the chair.

Miya followed suit, sinking into the chair on the opposite side of the desk and taking in the office space that she would soon be inheriting from the hero across from her.

The office was well-organized, a fact that Miya appreciated. There was a window that faced the training grounds, a desk with a computer, and many books in a lone bookshelf. On top of the desk sat two cups and a steaming pot of what smelled to be herbal tea.

There was a slight pause, and Miya took it to gush for a brief moment. She was excited, and she hoped it didn't show too much. She wanted to give the impression of a calm and collected medical professional, not the giddy school girl she felt like in the moment.

"I just have to say that it's an honor to have been selected, I'll work very hard to follow in your footsteps."

_Translation: You have no idea how much this means to me or how long I've waited for this. I'll do my best for these students. I'll become a hero with this quirk, just like you. This is my dream come true!_

"The choice was obvious." Recovery Girl acquiesced. "No other applicants had powerful healing quirks or happened to be graduates of medical school. I'm only a nurse, myself. A school like this needs the best of the best in order for the students to succeed, don't you agree?"

"I won't let you down." Miya supplied immediately, before the older woman had hardly finished her sentence.

The seasoned healer chuckled at her enthusiasm before continuing, gesturing towards the pot and teacups on the desk that separated them.

"Tea, dearie?" Recovery Girl smiled when Miya nodded enthusiastically, and the younger of the two poured the steaming liquid into the cups before the elder got back to business. "I plan to see just how much your quirk can handle today. You will be healing any and every injury that comes through the door today, whether it be broken bones or stuffy noses. I imagine it was a bit different at the hospital you worked at."

Miya nodded as she took a sip of her tea. It certainly _had_ been different at the hospital, where she'd hardly been able to use her quirk at all.

She had come prepared for the event she would be using her quirk extensively today, however, and her satchel was filled with snacks in the case that she might be put straight to work.

It was often that Miya needed to replenish her energy and blood sugar between sessions where she used her quirk, and her bag was stuffed with all sorts of little tasty snacks. Because she used her own energy to heal, it was important that she kept her energy up, and that was best accomplished by a few breaks and a lot of snacking.

Because her body used her own energy in order to regenerate, Miya metabolized much faster than a normal person. She took from her own calories and fat, as well as her body's thermal, mechanical, and electrical energy in order to use her quirk for long periods of time.

And using those reserves would likely come with a cost.

"I came prepared. I meant to ask earlier, though - " Miya started when the thought suddenly occurred to her. Glancing down at her business casual clothing, she continued. "What's the dress code? It looks like most of the faculty and staff are wearing whatever they want. Are there any rules I should know of?"

_Translation: Please say I can wear scrubs, please say I can wear scrubs, please say I can wear scrubs._

"I would recommend something comfortable, as long as your body is covered the school doesn't care what you wear." Recovery Girl replied, and Miya fought to contain a sigh of relief. She would definitely be wearing her scrubs from here on out. She had a whole closet full of them, and boy were they comfy. "Did they let you use your quirk much at the hospital? I imagine not."

Miya smiled to herself, pleased at the idea of wearing her scrubs as Recovery Girl inquired about her hospital's procedures.

"Not really. I rarely had the chance to use my quirk outside of the labs. I got my practice in at the homeless clinic, but that was all very hush-hush." Miya admitted, deciding to be completely honest about her little 'side project'. She glanced at her mentor nervously, but only found approval and a flash of mischief in her eyes.

"I'm glad you had the chance to practice in that area, the hospital rules can be a true thorn in the side!" She laughed somewhat, the sound whistling on the way out.

"Have you worked under those rules before?" Miya asked, taking another sip of her tea as she inquired.

"I was a nurse during the second world war. Back then there were so many radiation victims that they didn't care who you were or how you used your quirk, so long as you were helping." The elder woman reminisced, suddenly seeming as though she were lost in her own memories. "They started implementing all those ridiculous rules afterwards. But enough about me, tell me more about your quirk."

Miya set her teacup down upon the coaster and folded her hands on top of her lap.

"What would you like to know?" She asked, as Recovery Girl moved to refill their cups.

"I know that you can heal others by regenerating matter, but I would like to know the finer details of how it works, what impacts there are on your body, how you regenerate the matter, and what limitations there are to this ability of yours."

Miya gave a firm nod, mind now focused on providing the requested answers.

"I'm able to heal others by regenerating organic tissue matter, my quirk allows me to accelerate and influence growth in any living organisms." Miya began reaching for the tea cup again and bringing it to her lips as Recovery Girls interjected with a question.

"So, you can heal by regenerating the healthy cells and tissue as opposed to the unhealthy or damaged areas, and it will not work on inorganic life forms? Am I correct in that assumption?"

"Precisely." Miya nodded with a smile. "There are also certain things I can't do, like re-grow limbs. My quirk only works on matter already in existence. I can't re-create what's already lost."

"And can you focus that growth to particular areas of the body? How precise are you?" The old woman leaned forward in interest, and Miya turned the delicate teacup in her hands, admiring the floral pattern on the ceramic surface.

"I can pinpoint down to tissue and cells. If a student came into the recovery ward with the flu, my response would be to increase the production of the white blood cells in his bone marrow so that his body could fight it off on his own without the need of medicine." She explained, tracing the tip of her index finger around the delicate rim of the teacup as she spoke. "I'm not healing him, per se, just helping his own body to accelerate the healing process."

"How very fascinating." The older woman replied with interest before moving on. "And the downsides to your quirk? There's always a give and take."

Miya hummed softly in agreement, because it was all too true.

"It could take a serious toll on my body if I overuse it. I experience dangerous drops in bodily energy and blood sugar when that happens, but I've never pushed it further than that." Miya looked back up towards her new mentor, a serious expression now sported on her face.

"And that is where our quirks differ." Recovery Girl concluded. "You use energy from your own body for your quirk, whereas my quirk forces the patient to draw upon their own energy reserves. That's why I don't experience side-effects, but you do."

"I believe so, yes." Her blue hair swayed as she nodded once, affirming the hypothesis.

"You must be careful then, to not give too much of your own life energy. That is your 'Achilles Heel', so to speak. I will make sure to monitor you as you work today so that I can observe what your limits are."

"I'll be careful." Miya assured with a smile before patting her satchel with a small smile. "I've got this thing packed to the brim with snacks. As long as I keep myself well hydrated and keep my blood sugar up, I'm fine. I just need to eat and rest more often than most people when I've used my quirk throughout the day."

"Ah, I see." She acknowledged as she brought her hand up to rub at her chin as she thought aloud. "I'll request that the school installs a small fridge in the recovery ward and stocks it with nutritious snacks for you. I'm sure Nezu will agree it is necessary."

"Thanks…" Miya laughed sheepishly. She felt like some sort of toddler, for they too needed constant snacks and naps in order to function.

"Well, go ahead and finish the rest of your tea. I'll show you where all the supplies and charts are located when you're done."

"Yes ma'am!"

.

* * *

.

They certainly _had_ been busy, just as Recovery Girl said they might.

Miya's feet seemed to drag as she made her way to the teacher's lounge, where the staff apparently enjoyed their lunches. Her homemade bento felt heavy in her hands, and she began to fantasize of how the tamagoyaki and umeboshi might taste upon her tongue.

She had scarfed down a few bites of her breakfast at five in the morning, unable to stomach much else due to her jittery nerves. And though she had taken Recovery Girl's advice and stopped for many snack breaks, she was feeling somewhat fatigued from lack of sleep and using her quirk for the majority of the morning.

She walked into the teacher's lounge, only to stop immediately after feeling a wave of uncertainty wash over her.

It felt like the first day of high school all over again, when she had been an awkward young girl standing in the cafeteria and unsure of which table to sit at.

She bit her lip in indecision. In the hospital, she had taken her lunch breaks with her laptop in a room full of other stressed out doctors, shoving food in her mouth as she attempted to type clinical notes and use her time wisely.

But here? Well, it certainly wasn't the fast-paced Emergency Room environment she had come to be accustomed to, or the labs that she had hermited away in. This was much slower, more relaxed, and carried a comfortable air to it.

She wasn't sure how she felt about it. It was such a stark difference from what she knew, and she wasn't sure what to make of it or how to proceed - at least until a busty woman with dark hair slung an arm around her shoulder.

"Well, helloooooo there!" The woman purred, a large smile threatening to split her face in two. "You're that Dr. Tanaka everyone's talking about, aren't you? Come sit with Mic, Cementoss, and I. Come on, I don't bite…much."

Miya stumbled along, realizing she didn't have much of a choice as the voluptuous woman in a revealing bodysuit wheeled her around and sat her down in a seat across from Present Mic, who lit up immediately.

"Yo, Doc!" Miya flinched at the volume. "How's the Academy life treating ya? Is it as groovy as you expected?"

…_Groovy?_

"I'm enjoying my day so far, thank you for asking." She replied politely, unsure of how to respond to the word 'groovy', which wasn't an adjective she might have picked to describe her experience so far. Turning to the one who must be Cementoss, she gave a small introduction. "I'm Dr. Tanaka, it's nice to meet you."

"Likewise." The cement-morphed staff member replied neutrally. "I look forward to working with you."

And from there it went.

Miya found that she quickly relaxed around them, joining in conversation in a quiet voice every now and again, but mostly listening to the lively talking of her new colleagues.

The risqué and curvaceous woman, who introduced herself by her alias of Midnight, seemed quite interested in the young doctor. Miya was asked many questions about her quirk and her medical background, and in return, she asked many questions about the life of a hero and staff worker at UA.

All in all, she enjoyed her lunch period. Before she knew it, the bells had rung again, signifying the end to her break.

As she was leaving the break room after saying her goodbyes, she saw him.

Or tripped over him, rather.

Laying on the floor and snuggled like a caterpillar in a cocoon of a well-worn sleeping bag, was Aizawa Shouta. She had been busy attempting to braid her hair so as to keep it out of her face, and did not see the tail end of his sleeping bag peeking out from behind a couch until it was already too late.

She hit the ground hard, coming face to face with bloodshot eyes that gave off a terrifying and intense aura. Miya scrambled backwards at the sight, quickly picking herself up and dusting herself off to deliver an apology she wasn't sure she truly meant but felt it best to give anyways.

_He _was the one who had made himself into a tripping hazard in the first place, after all.

"I'm so sorry, Aizawa-san, I didn't see you ther-"

"I'm aware." He cut in, tone monotonous as he interrupted her attempt at an apology. Unzipping his sleeping bag to crawl out of it, he still looked half asleep as he continued. "Your training starts at four, meet me on the practice grounds and don't be late."

She said nothing, biting the inside of her cheeks instead. The grungy looking man didn't spare her a second glance as he folded his sleeping bag over an arm and started out the door in front of her.

"Don't mind that ol' sour puss!" Present Mic intoned loudly, clapping her hard on the back as he passed. Miya had to take a step forward to balance herself at the impact. "He's been that way since we were kids, he doesn't realize how rude he sounds."

Midnight snorted as she followed her colleagues out the door as well, now that the bells had rung and students were heading back towards their classes.

"That's not true." She argued with a small laugh. "I think he does know and just doesn't care enough to correct his speech. Either way, good luck at your training this afternoon, you'll need all the luck you can get if he's already that grumpy!"

"Ah, thanks." Miya mumbled as they filed out the door to leave her alone in the break room.

She sighed, fingers returning to her hair to finish the braid she had been working on prior to tripping over that strange man.

She wasn't sure what to make of him, his personality was not an easy one to read, or even to talk to for that matter. It also sounded as if Midnight knew that Aizawa had something rigorous planned for her later, which wouldn't surprise her. She suspected he hadn't been embellishing the day he had told her that he was going to put her through hell and back.

Taking an elastic off her wrist and tying off the long braid, she took a deep breath before starting out the door and back towards the office she now shared with Recovery Girl. She couldn't fight the feeling of dread that was starting to worm its way into her heart at the idea of the training this afternoon.

And what had Midnight meant by 'needing all the luck she can get'. Miya was certain it didn't mean anything remotely positive.

_This was what you wanted. _She scolded herself internally. _Did you think it would be easy? Woman up!_

She rolled her shoulders back and held her head a bit higher as she made her way to the recovery ward. It wouldn't be easy, but she would prove that she was capable of becoming a hero.

.

* * *

.

"I've got another one for you, Dr. Tanaka!" Came the sing-song voice of Recovery Girl, pointing towards a bed that held yet another patient. "Eat a snack first, this one might take longer – looks like a broken bone."

A tidal wave of young students had shown up about an hour or so after she had returned from lunch break, all from the hero courses. Recovery Girl had explained to her that there were always a few injuries to be had; the first day of school was when teachers liked to test the quirks of their new students.

Outside of the hero courses, there were two students from the General Education department who came complaining of a cold, and one very loud and exuberant girl from the Department of Support who came in covered in burns and soot after having somehow blown something up in the development lab on her first day. The girl expressed zero regret and Miya had a feeling she would be seeing Hatsume Mei again fairly soon.

Miya followed Recovery Girl's advice, slipping into the back office to grab an energy bar and a juice box before emerging again with the energy she would need to regenerate bone and muscle.

The young doctor grabbed a chart as she sat next to the young boy waiting on one of the beds.

"May I have your name please?" She asked after seating herself, pencil poised and ready to fill out the intake sheet.

"Midoriya, Izuku. I'm from class 1-A." The green haired boy relayed quickly and with a polite attitude, despite the fact that he was clutching an obviously broken finger to his chest. "Aizawa-sensei said to come see you for my finger."

_So, this is one of Aizawa-san's students?_

"I'm Dr. Tanaka." Miya smiled warmly at him, outstretching her hand as she spoke. "May I see your finger please?"

"Yes ma'am!" Izuku replied immediately, letting her take his hand.

As she examined the swollen and bruised skin above the break, he studied her intently, and Miya soon began to feel herself growing increasingly uncomfortable.

She glanced at him with an eyebrow raised, wondering just what it was that might have him staring at her like an ant under the magnifying glass.

"I don't know you…" He trailed off, almost as a second thought.

"Well, we did just introduce ourselves." Miya glanced at him, wondering what he might have meant by that comment.

Izuku flinched as her fingers probed gently at the swollen flesh of his broken index finger.

"Oh! No, I mean – what I meant is that – um –" The boy was flustered, and Miya could not help but smile softly to herself as she waited for him to make his point. "I just – I don't recognize your hero name. I've never heard a hero named Dr. Tanaka before, and I don't recognize your face from any of the hero registrars."

So that was it. Miya understood what he had meant now. She let herself relax.

"Ah." She acknowledged with a bob of the head. "That's because I'm not a hero yet – Tanaka is my actual surname. I was selected to become Recovery Girl's replacement, but I'm getting a late start to the game, aren't I?"

Izuku's gaze widened substantially at her last remark about getting started later.

His eyes lit up, a sense of understanding suddenly seeming to dawn on the boy. But something more was held in his gaze, something that Miya found somewhat strange; it felt as if he resonated with what she had said somehow.

"I'm going to start the healing process. It may tingle a little, but try to stay still." She informed him, to which he only nodded, seemingly dumbfounded by her earlier statement. "Let me know if you feel any discomfort."

Miya let her eyelids slide shut, willing her quirk to activate.

The energy flowed slowly, thick and warm through the pads of her fingertips and into the boy's body. The probing energy of her own life force painted a picture of the inside of her patient's finger in her mind. Every muscle, blood cell, and bit of bone was now mapped out for her behind her eyes.

She focused clearly, willing her energy to circulate within the area of the damaged finger.

The bone was broken all right, completely shattered. But what surprised her was not the gravity of the break, but something else entirely; all the muscles in his finger had been shredded as well, torn apart from the inside.

Miya halted the flow of energy when she felt the state of his body. His own body had done this to him, his own quirk had hurt him like this, imploding from within.

Something was off.

There was something very strange about his body and the power it held inside of it. She could not see it clearly, but it gave her the sensation of a tea cup overflowing. The energy from his quirk seemed to be barely contained by his own body, as if it were not his own or he did not have the ability to control it, like a shoe that didn't quite fit or steam escaping from a kettle.

She didn't have the right words to describe what she felt from his energy and life force, but she knew it was a feeling that was unnatural. She had never seen this before in any patient ever treated by her hands.

She pushed her thoughts and suspicions aside however, focusing instead on the job that needed to be done instead of the walking scientific mystery that was Midoriya Izuku.

She healed the bone first, regenerating the calcium and solid mass that would knit the two broken areas back together. The muscle was harder to accomplish, due to the stringy nature of ligaments and the blood cells and tissue that needed to be regenerated in the right shape and direction to weave back in to the original.

When she was done, she let her eyes flutter open again and glance at the clock on the wall.

_Seven minutes and twenty seconds…not bad._

"Amazing-" Breathed the boy in wonder, bending his finger to test out the work. "It's like new, better than knew actually!"

Miya smiled at the praise as she reached into the pocket of her physician's coat for a handful of almonds she had stashed there. Doctor's coats were wonderful for all the pocket space. More space meant more room for snacks.

She had Izuku test out his newly healed finger for her while she scribbled in his chart and munched on almonds, all the while pondering upon what she had felt from his quirk inside his body.

She kept her thoughts to herself, though, making a mental note to do some research into the body's capacity to hold certain types of quirks and the backlash common with powerful quirks like his.

She would hold her tongue until she knew for sure.

The day continued normally, and Miya saw thirteen more patients until the school bells rang and students began filing down to the lobby and lockers to grab their shoes before heading home.

As students walked past the open door to the recovery ward, Miya lounged in one of the patient chairs, typing away on her laptop. UA used the same online filing and clinical system that the hospital had, which meant that she already had the software on her laptop.

She sucked at a mango juice box to help replenish her blood sugar as minutes ticked by, entering the day's clinical notes into the online system and updating the students' medical profiles with the problems they had come in with and what treatments she had seen fit to be administered.

All in all, it wasn't too different from clinical rotations at the hospital when she hadn't been on surgical or lab duty, minus the hectic environment of the ER of course. Except this time, she was mostly using her quirk instead of modern medicine to right the wrongs that had befallen the students' bodies. She smiled softly to herself as she typed away.

Using her quirk like this felt like she was somehow completing her identity, or giving into a more natural flow of how things ought to be.

What she had inherited from her parents was nothing short of a blessing, and she was now in a position where she was finally able to use that to society's gain. Not only was she helping others, but she was helping the next generation of those who would rise to become heroes. And those heroes would go on to help other people and inspire another generation of heroes after them.

It was like a chain of goodwill, and she was glad to be a part of it. It felt like she truly had purpose and drive now, which was something she had felt as though she had lacked for too long.

Miya had just finished updating Midoriya Izuku's information on his online patient chart when she had the sense to glance towards the clock.

When she saw the time on the wall, her heart nearly stopped.

Ten minutes after four, already ten minutes late to her training with Aizawa, and she hadn't even changed into her sports clothing yet. Her stomach sank as she recalled his grumpy attitude from earlier.

She shot out of her seat in a panic, nearly sending her laptop to the floor before she caught it last second.

Miya hardly got a 'goodbye' out to Recovery Girl, who was chuckling knowingly inside her office at her reaction, before she was out the door, sprinting towards the changing room as fast as her legs would carry her.

The world blurred as she all but tore off her clothing in a rushed frenzy and shoved it inside the locker she had been assigned inside the staff changing rooms, replacing her business casual attire with a standard tracksuit with the school's logo that she had been issued.

The exhausted man had made it clear not to be late, but here she was, giving him yet another bad impression by showing she was careless with her time and appointments. Miya was furious with herself, he truly must have come to the assumption that she was incapable by now, if he had not already.

She was out the door the second the laces on her tennis shoes were tied, running down the hallways and stairs like a madwoman. She barreled through the double doors that led towards the training grounds he had specified at lunch, grimacing when she found him there already.

Miya was huffing as she came to a stop a few meters from where he stood. His intense expression was still there, and it was clear he was not impressed.

"You're twenty minutes late." He droned, though she could hear the hint of annoyance underneath the tone that sounded otherwise bored or perhaps just tired. "Unacceptable."

"Aizawa-san, I'm sorry, I was working on clinical notes and lost track of–"

"No excuses." He interrupted, voice darkening. "A hero can't afford to arrive late to the scene. Tardiness will not be tolerated by me or by a villain, especially if somebody's life is at stake. Remember that."

"I – I will." She chewed her lip in uncertainty, unable to hold his gaze.

"Now that we understand each other," He continued, tone flat as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "You're going to run one kilometer for every minute you were late."

Miya balked, taking a step forward.

"Run?" She asked in disbelief. "But that's – that's twenty kilometers! It will take me hours, and I've never run more than five before…"

"Then I suggest you start running."

"You're serious?" She asked in a small tone, looking dubiously between him and the track that circled the training field.

He only sent her a look that dared her to argue again, one that looked dangerous and seemed to say 'do I look like I'm joking?'.

It was clear he was not joking, much to Miya's dismay.

"I warned you ahead of time that this wouldn't be easy." He reminded her, and she frowned at him openly this time. "It's only rational to begin with your strength and stamina before moving on. As a doctor, I'm sure you understand why."

Miya fought the urge to scowl at him, because she understood why indeed.

She wasn't particularly athletic or strong. Her calf muscles were decent from moving quickly throughout the hospital, and she was adequately flexible from a yoga class she took on Saturday afternoons, but that was the extent of it.

She wasn't strong, wasn't fast, and had little stamina for prolonged physical activity. And that meant that Aizawa was correct, this was the correct first step to take. She couldn't argue his logic, it was sound.

_But twenty kilometers? I'll be puking before I reach ten…_

Nevertheless, Miya straightened up, puffing her chest out in indignation and accepting his orders in an attempt to convey that she was up for the challenge.

"Fine." She replied curtly, before turning on her heels and beginning her first lap around the track.

.

* * *

.

Aizawa watched from his spot on the bleachers as she tripped again, this time landing flat on her face.

That one would have had to hurt.

It had been nearly three hours now and she had only made it fourteen kilometers, though she had already stopped to empty her stomach twice. She was now slowing down substantially. From what he had discerned thus far by observing her physical endurance was that it was disastrous at best.

He watched as she slowly pulled herself to her feet again and staggered forward another few paces before falling once more. She had reached her limit for the day it seemed.

He wasn't surprised, he hadn't expected her to be much of an athlete. She wasn't a hero, and therefor had no need before to push herself the way that she would now need to in order to catch up to the rest of them. He knew that doctors lived busy lives, so it was unlikely she had the time previously for something like this kind of training.

Luckily, this could be easily remedied. The human body could handle intense training like that, provided it was done in a healthy sequence.

It was obvious that she wasn't much of a runner, but she wasn't unfit. She may not have had a lot of stamina, but he could tell from the outline of her legs underneath the tracksuit that she had good muscle there, and most likely exercised on a light to moderate routine in her spare time.

It looked as though she took care of her body, he could tell by studying her physique. She had a form that was willowy and she moved her body with care and grace, almost like a dancer might. He had a sinking suspicion that this would serve her well in hand-to-hand combat when they started that part of her training.

He thought about it as he watched her, taking in how she moved her body as she ran, where she put her weight in her foot falls, and how she held herself as she moved forward.

Aizawa came to the conclusion after the first hour of watching her run that a fighting style based off of Aikido would be their best bet.

Her form looked like it wouldn't build too much muscle, so using a fighting technique that used one's own strength to overpower another was definitely out of the question.

She would be much better served by a fighting style based off of that old martial art, one that used an opponent's weight and movement against them without exerting much energy. Aikido was a gentle art, and flowed gracefully, much like how she already moved.

Her knowledge of the human body would also come in handy, she would know exactly where sensitive organs were located, or where bones might be the weakest for a possible attack. With that medical knowledge, it was possible she would be able to cultivate a unique and effective combat style that would be hard to defeat.

But that would take time, and lots of it. And before they could even start on that, she had to first build her stamina.

If no one else would order her to run until she dropped over the course of the upcoming weeks, he would personally see to it himself. Medical knowledge wouldn't save anybody from a villain, and she would need to build her physical strength and stamina up until she mastered a fighting technique and acquired some sort of accessory to help her in a fight.

Without an offense-based quirk, much like Aizawa himself, whose quirk could only incapacitate an opponent, people like them had to rely on hand-to-hand combat or battle accessories in order to gain an upper hand.

He certainly had his work cut out for him, but he now fully understood Nezu's decision to have him oversee her training personally.

It wasn't just about the fact that he had a knack for cultivating talent and pushing his students the hardest, it was also about the fact that he had been much like her when he began UA as well.

As a first year, he had needed to learn quickly how to find a unique combat style to blend with a quirk that was not offense-based so that he did not fall behind his peers. In his second year he had added his signature binding tools he wore around his neck to give him an edge and advantage. By his third year he had combined all three together to become one of the most well-rounded graduates their school had ever produced, even if it had taken a few more years to really get the hang of using the binding tools.

People like the both of them needed to work a little harder to keep up with the others, they needed to spend time and energy, shedding blood, sweat, and tears in order to find a unique fighting style that suited them.

Some were just born with amazing power, like All Might, Endeavor, or that new Bakugou student of his; but others, like Dr. Tanaka, who had a quirk not particularly useful in a fight, had to pave their own way and find ways to fill in the gaps as they went.

It was hard work, and she definitely had a long way to go. But he wouldn't have recommended her at all if he hadn't been certain that she possessed the drive needed to make it.

His face was impassive as he watched her fall again. This time, she did not get back up.

His gaze drifted to the sky, where the setting sun had turned the surrounding clouds a vivid orange. He supposed they could finish here for today. She had been running nonstop for three hours now, which was a decent workout for any pro hero.

"Alright Dr. Tanaka, we're done for the day." He called, lifting himself off the bleachers as he addressed the exhausted woman.

She did not move, only continuing to lay motionless on the ground where she had fallen.

His eyes narrowed as he started towards her, noting the rise and fall of her chest that indicated he hadn't accidentally killed her.

That would have been regrettable. He imagined it might have been hard to explain to Nezu that he had accidentally killed her by making her run until she kicked the bucket.

He squatted down next to her collapsed form when he reached her, peering down into a flushed and sweaty face.

"You're done for the day." He informed her, and her face scrunched distastefully at his voice. "I trust you won't be late tomorrow."

"I…won't…" She wheezed, features twisting painfully as she attempted speech between gasping breaths.

"Good." He affirmed blandly as he stood, brushing off imaginary dust from his pants. "Go home and take a shower, you stink."

She groaned as she picked herself up, staggering forward with uneven steps and panting harshly.

He slowed his pace to match hers, not out of an act of kindness or chivalry, but just to make sure she didn't keel over on her walk to the train station. He wasn't the most compassionate person in the world, but he could at least offer her that.

He also wanted her thoughts on a certain green-headed brat of his, he had made sure to tell the boy to see her specifically so that she could provide him with a medical opinion afterwards.

"When you're able to breath normally, I need to pick your brain about something." He informed her as they began a slow walk towards the train station.

She only grunted at him and nodded, continuing in silence. After another few minutes of leisurely walking and taking many deep breaths, she spoke.

"What did you want to talk about, Aizawa-san?" She asked, voice still hoarse but at least coherent.

He wasted no time getting to the issue. Wasting time by beating around the bush would have been irrational.

"Midoriya, you treated him today after I sent him to you. What damage did his quirk have on his body?" He demanded, glancing down at her to study her reaction.

She bit her lip and looked to the side, as if unsure how to respond. After what seemed to be a few moments of consideration, she responded.

"His finger was broken and his muscles were damaged." She offered, not going into the detail he had hoped for.

"Specifics, if you will. I have a right to the information as his homeroom teacher." He intoned, hoping she would see his logic. He shouldn't have had to explain that in the first place. "Give me your opinion as a doctor, don't leave out any details."

She sighed, looking at him from the corner of her eye before letting her gaze drift frontwards again.

"The muscles and ligaments in his finger were completely shredded, it was like they imploded from inside his own body. The bone wasn't just broken, it was shattered." Miya admitted with slight hesitation. "To my knowledge, that type of damage is extremely severe for somebody his age. If he's had almost a decade to work with it, he shouldn't have had that type of injury."

"I thought the same, that was why I sent him to you, specifically. Your quirk allows you an in-depth view of organic matter, so I have to ask –" He paused, coming to a stop and turning to face her. Miya turned as well, mimicking his action. "Is his quirk just not suited for his body, or is there something more to it?"

Miya crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly feeling somewhat uncomfortable.

Science made her feel comfortable. It offered sound reasoning and solid facts; but this was not something within the scientific realm, of that she was sure. She had no proof to back up the strange sensation she had gathered from Izuku earlier.

"I don't have any facts to confirm your suspicions, there's no way to know for sure. It's just a gut feeling." She said, and his eyes narrowed a small fraction.

"But you _did_ feel something?" The sleepy looking man demanded, gaze and tone quite serious despite a casual posture.

"What I did or didn't feel doesn't equate to scientific fact. I can't offer you hard evidence if that's what you're looking for." She returned, sounding somewhat uncertain and uncomfortable.

"Tell me what you felt, we can worry about the science of it later." He demanded, and Miya's shoulders sank in defeat.

The young doctor hummed to herself, recalling to mind the odd sensation she had garnered and attempting to think of the right wording to phrase it so that he might understand.

"It felt…unnatural. Wrong, but right at the same time. I'm not sure how to explain it." She admitted, shifting her weight slightly and frowning softly. "It's like it doesn't fit somehow, or as if his body and quirk have developed separately from each other. They don't really match well."

"I see." He mumbled, the gears turning in his head as he started again. He heard her huff behind him before she caught up to his side once more. "I suspected the same. Thank you for your insight."

"If he was a patient of mine at the hospital I would have advised him against using it at all and admitted him for further testing. That quirk of his is dangerous, if he can't control it he's going to damage his body beyond anything I can repair." She stated seriously, and he gave her a somber nod in return.

"I'll keep it in mind."

They walked in silence after that, trudging towards the platform as the setting sun painted a myriad of colors throughout the sky.

Aizawa felt his lips tugging downwards as he thought about both his student with a quirk unsuited for his body, a class that was sure to bring him trouble, and the doctor at his side. It was going to be one heck of a busy year for him, of that he was sure.

But his efforts would pay off in the end, they always did.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N - Hi there! Get ready for some action, my friends :)**

**Thank you all for the support and reviews, they make my day. Hope you all are having a lovely day and I wish you a PLUS ULTRA weekend!**

**(Happy Nowruz to anyone who may have celebrated it!)**

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"Unngggghhhh…"

Miya collapsed on top of her bed, groaning into the pillow.

Every single muscle in her body was on fire, pain radiating from joints and muscle fiber any time she made and attempt at moving her limbs. Even getting up and down from a seated position had been a challenge today. And the stairs? Those had been a nightmare.

For thirty minutes after arriving home and throwing her dirty and sweaty body on top of her quilted bed, she did not move, eventually becoming numb in mind, spirit, and body.

She briefly wondered if she had reached a point where her body had actually transcended the physical realm of pain, as she could no longer feel her legs. Her nose was throbbing, most likely from falling again. She'd been doing a lot of that lately. Running had never been her strong suit, and besides a secret love of yoga and barre workouts she wasn't the most athletic.

Her first few weeks at UA had flown by, mostly due to the fact that she was so exhausted it was hard to recall the passing of time accurately.

Each day she roused herself around four and got ready for her commute. She spent all morning and afternoon using her quirk and working with Recovery Girl, listening to the older woman explain the ins and outs of her new job. After school let out, Aizawa made her run until she couldn't go any further. The man was truly merciless.

It was the same routine so far each day: wake up and trudge to work, use her quirk to heal the students and faculty, and then run until she couldn't take another step.

And this week, Aizawa had added ankle and wrist weights to her training routine. He had also begun her on some weight lifting, which she was struggling with.

If she stopped or slowed down too much, he used those carbon-fiber restraints to slap the back of her calves. And those weren't just any ordinary strips of fabric; they were hard, they stung and left bruises on her body, and they hurt like a –

_Ping!_

Miya was interrupted from an angry mental tirade with a text from the very man she was internally cursing in the moment. The staff had a directory of cell-phone numbers, and all teachers and faculty were required to have each other's contacts in case of an emergency.

And Yamada Hizashi had decided, to Aizawa's disdain and Miya's immense amusement, to create a group chat for them to share details in.

She grimaced at seeing his name light up on her smartphone screen, wondering what he might want after forcing her to run until she puked earlier. Next time, she came to the conclusion crossly, she would make sure to empty her stomach right on top of his boots if he was intent on running her to an early grave.

With great effort, she lifted her hand to bring her phone closer to her face, fingers dragging a lightning bolt pattern across the dots to unlock her lock screen.

The newly downloaded messaging app icon that stood out against a girly and floral wallpaper told her she had a few unread messages in the group chat.

_3 Unread messages from Group: UA Staff_

_[20:29 Eraser to Group: UA Staff] Tomorrow we are taking class 1-A to the USJ for rescue training, Recovery Girl has granted Dr. Tanaka leave to accompany us to the facilities at my request. _

_MiyaMiya - Pack extra snacks for yourself and meet us at the bus terminal at ten. You will be joining in on the training and providing medical help if needed. _

_VladtheKing – Please share details of when 1-B will be using it next._

_[20:30 VladtheKing to Group: UA Staff] Eraser - We are scheduled to use it next Monday. I'd like to talk to you tomorrow about the possibility of joint rescue training in the future, or perhaps group sparring exercises._

_[20:30 PRESENTMIC! to Group: UA Staff] 1-A VS. 1-B! GET REKT!_

_PRESENTMIC! has changed the name of the group to 'Swag Squad'_

_Eraser has changed the name of the group to 'UA Staff'_

_PRESENTMIC! has changed the name of the group to 'UA Fam'_

_Eraser has changed the name of the group to 'UA Staff'_

_PRESENTMIC! has changed the name of the group to '50 Shades of SLAY'_

_Eraser has changed the name of the group to 'UA Staff'_

_PRESENTMIC! has changed the name of the group to 'We Who Shall Not Be Named'_

_Eraser has changed the name of the group to 'UA Staff'_

Miya snorted quietly to herself, unable to help the silly grin stretching across her face. It brought her enjoyment to know that the man who was forcing her to run until she dropped each day was probably annoyed right now.

She had now known him long enough to know just what made him tick, the little things that annoyed him. And so, as a subtle way to get back at him for the hell he was putting her through, she poked and prodded him just enough to get an annoyed response from the man who had very little patience to begin with, but never enough for him to actually be able to accuse her of anything.

It was a fine line she treaded.

It didn't take much, especially when he was grumpy, as she assumed he most likely was right now. And Aizawa Shouta was almost always grumpy.

Her thumbs moved quickly as she responded.

[_21:01 MiyaMiya to Group: UA Staff] Eraser – I'll be there. Thanks for the info. My vote is for 'UA Fam'. Great choice, Mic!_

_[21:01 MidnightLuvin' to Group: UA Staff] I prefer '50 Shades of Slay' ;) ;)_

_[21:02 PRESENTMIC! to Group: UA Staff] You see, Eraser? At least some people have a sense of humor! Let loose a bit!_

_Eraser has changed the name of the group to 'shut up and let me sleep or you'll regret it'_

She let her phone screen fade to black as a few new messages came in, which she ignored. The group chat was amusing, but she was a little too tired to care about it at the moment.

She rolled onto her back, taking a few deep breaths that were somewhat painful as her lungs inflated against her ribs and the strained muscles there. But the pain wasn't as bad as it had been the first few days. It had almost been a month of running and weights now, and she was already seeing improvement. She supposed the brutal training was paying off.

Her muscles were already looking more defined. Her legs were able to carry her farther and faster. Her breathing as she ran was slowly improving, and she was not puking as much anymore, so that was a plus.

But the one thing that really excited her was the progress she was already seeing with her quirk. After just a month with Recovery Girl and using it extensively, she was not so easily fatigued and was able to work more quickly and efficiently with her regenerative abilities.

She wouldn't go so far as to say things were getting any easier, but she could say that she was seeing a bit of improvement.

She sighed and smiled to herself.

Despite the physical torture and demanding schedule, she was glad to be working at UA. It felt as though everything was finally coming together. And what was more, she would finally get to do something besides running tomorrow.

The idea of taking part in rescue training with a bunch of teenagers was slightly embarrassing, she was a decade older than most of them, but she couldn't deny she was still excited.

She felt happy, peaceful with her decision to accept this job. The world seemed bright and the possibilities looked endless. It was as if nothing could bring her down.

She should have known it wouldn't last.

.

* * *

.

The silence was tangible, but just between them. The rest of the bus was filled with chatty and excited teens on their way for their first rescue training, and the overheard discourse at least helped to fill the gap of conversation between them.

The two of them shared a seating row near the driver in the front while the rest of class 1-A, who she had now been formally introduced to before boarding the bus, talked animatedly amongst themselves.

Aizawa was not particularly chatty, nor was he one for small talk – a fact that Miya had learned relatively quickly within their first few weeks of working together. When he did choose to speak, it was brief and rational, and he never sugar coated his statements. At first, she had thought him rude, but now she had come to see it was just part of his mentality of not wanting to waste time or spare any fake sentiments.

Miya could respect that. His attitude was refreshing, in a sense – or most of the time it was. There were times when Miya found herself biting her tongue to keep from retorting whenever he said something that most would find offensive.

At least she never had to guess as to what he was thinking; he just outright said it, which was a double-edged sword for him. But it was nice to listen to somebody who didn't beat around the bush and just got straight to the point.

Though there were times, much like this one, where she would have preferred even a bit of conversation. Miya would have been grateful for anything, even if it was just a comment on the weather, which had been very pleasant as of late.

Spring time was in full bloom now and only growing warmer as summer approached. Trees were blossoming, the weather was warming as they edged closer to summer, and the sun shone brightly in a way that Miya found quite charming and refreshing after a long and gray winter.

But he didn't really seem to care about that, so she neglected to comment on the fresh air wafting in from the cracked window or the lovely pink of the sakura blossoms on the trees they passed.

She focused on the scenery as the bus took them the short ride to the off campus USJ center. It wasn't too long a ride, so she had decided that she could endure a little bit of awkward silence.

But he surprised her after a few minutes, inclining his head in her direction to speak lowly.

"I read some of your research on the skin grafts you were using your quirk to grow. I've been meaning to ask, just what else have you tried to do with it outside of the medical field?"

Straight to the point and void of any pleasantries, as usual.

She blinked at him, before swallowing her shock that he had been snooping around in her published articles and quickly sobered herself. She hadn't expected any conversation, but she wasn't complaining.

"Not much." Answered the young doctor quickly. "I practice with my plants when I'm at home. My quirk works with just about anything organic, but I haven't used it much outside of a medical environment."

He hummed to himself.

"Have you ever practiced on anything like trees? Anything larger than a houseplant?" He questioned seriously, and Miya shook her head slowly.

"I never thought about it. I'm not sure if it would work." She admitted, glancing back out towards the cherry blossom trees that lined this particular road with renewed interest. "I guess it would be interesting to try."

"We'll try next week." He offered, looking behind them with a scowl as Bakugou's angry voice filled the air before focusing his attention on her again. "I want to begin expanding on quirk training and a fighting style for you, we'll start that on Monday. Your endurance has improved enough, so it's time to move forward."

Miya couldn't help but smile at the thought of it.

"No more running?" She asked hopefully, looking to him intently.

His lip twitched, displaying a subtle hint of amusement.

"I didn't say that." Deadpanned her mentor, almost as if he took pleasure in dashing her hopes. Miya sighed, slumping into her seat in defeat when she got her answer. She should have known her hopes were too good to be true. "But less running." He followed up.

"I'll take it!" She laughed, perking up and smile spreading. "And what about you? Your quirk is erasing the quirks of others, and I know how adept you are with those bindings, but what other tricks do you have up your sleeves?"

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as he returned his gaze forward.

"I'll tell you when you stop throwing up each time you run."

Miya felt her cheeks heat in an instant. Why did he have to bring that up? As if it wasn't embarrassing enough that it happened, he didn't need to remind her so that she could re-live her shame. If this was what his idea of teasing was, she didn't care for it.

Having an audience while you puked wasn't the most dignified thing in the world, and she hated that he had seen her in such a graceless fashion.

"I'm getting better…" She trailed off, crossing her arms uncomfortably across her chest.

"You are." He acknowledged, neither a compliment or a discouragement. "But you still have a long way to go. I'll speak to Recovery Girl about allowing you leave to join us more often, at least until she retires and you take over. We have a year before that happens, so we should make good use of it."

Miya nodded to his logic, attempting to let go of her embarrassment.

"That's smart." She replied. "Once she retires I won't have the mobility to leave like I do now."

He nodded right back at her and did not add anything to her last statement when the bus came to a stop. He stood, motioning her to follow him.

"Alright class, we're going to –" He started blandly, only to be interrupted.

"Please exit the bus in an orderly fashion and line up outside in alphabetical order according to your last name! This is our first formal rescue training off campus, we must uphold the esteem of the school's name!" Tenya Iida sped past them to exit the bus, leaving his mildly annoyed teacher in his wake.

"It looks like they listen to him. You should take notes." Miya offered as she walked past Aizawa and stepped off the bus to follow after the straight-laced class representative.

The look he shot her when he stepped off as well made it clear that he hadn't been amused with her last comment. He'd probably make her pay for it later in their afternoon training after school, but she could worry about that later.

She fell into step with him as they approached the entrance to the USJ with the students following closely behind.

She tuned out most of the conversation after an introduction to 13, who she had already met at a staff meeting the weekend prior. Instead, she let her gaze roam the insides of the training facility as 13 explained to them what they would need to know.

It was a true engineering marvel, one that astounded her. In the back of her mind she made the connection that the school must be more heavily funded than she had originally thought to have the monetary means to build something this extreme, or perhaps they had obtained the favor a filthy rich private donor. Either way, something like this would have costed a fortune to construct and maintain.

The design was simply amazing; complete with many different terrains, circumstances, and different biomes, all under one roof.

Her fingers twitched, she was anxious to get started. It was her first time, just like the other students, and she was looking forward to it.

She followed alongside Aizawa and 13 as the grumpy and sleep deprived man voiced his disdain at All Might's tardiness and the space hero explained the layout of the facilities.

It was then, as she was bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet, that their world came crashing down.

Electricity crackled in the air, each overhead light exploding one after another.

Darkness gathered, swirling ominously in the center of the grounds. It moved slowly, lazy black tendrils of dark matter rotating around an invisible epicenter. Her eyes narrowed, and she saw Aizawa's body stiffen next to her as the darkness began to expand and take form. A few of the students looked on in confusion, eyeing the scene unfolding warily.

"Aizawa-san," She whispered, suddenly feeling a certain chill in the air. Her stomach coiled into a knot, her instincts screaming at her that something was not right. "This isn't part of the training, is it?"

She had hardly finished her sentence before something emerged from that darkness, and then another something after it. She took a flustered step back upon realizing that it was people that were emerging from that strange looking portal.

Murderous intent now filled the air, stifling and crushing. Suddenly, the doors to the training center closed behind them and Miya realized she now had her answer. The students shifted nervously among themselves, asking with uncertainty about what was happening.

"It's not." He mumbled back, tone darkening dangerously. "Those are villains."

Miya felt her stomach drop, and her body trembled ever so slightly.

_Villains? But how? The school's security system is top-notch, how could they bypass that?_

This was it, this was the real deal; right here and right now. Her mind spun, chaos making a home for itself inside her head. She couldn't think straight. Fear was overriding all else.

It hit her then just how vulnerable they were, as more and more villains continued to emerge from the portal.

She was woefully unprepared for this, just like the rest of the students. Just like class 1-A, she had only acquired a scant few weeks of hero training. And unlike class 1-A, all she had been doing so far was running and weight training.

What was she going to do, run laps around a group of bloodthirsty villains? Heal them if they got injured? The idea was laughable at best.

Aizawa spun, addressing his students and the two staff members behind him.

"13 and Dr. Tanaka, protect the students, escort them back to campus." He flung a hand out then, as two of his students took hesitant steps forward, snarling a command. "Stay back! This is real, those are villains."

The world suddenly seemed to blur around her, and the arguing voices sounded quite distant. All she could see were the villains below, slowly making their way towards their group. People were speaking around her, but she couldn't seem to focus on their words.

It vaguely occurred to her then that this must be what terror felt like in its purest form. This was what it felt like to fear for one's life. This was what it felt like to be scared for the well-being of yourself and of others.

It was the first time Miya had felt any of those feelings before.

She had grown up sheltered, bubbled away from the world and well-provided for. As a member of the upper-middle class, she had never once gone hungry or feared for her safety. She had never been in an encounter with a villain before, only having seen them in the news. And even then, she rarely watched the news.

Her entire life had been about accomplishing a goal that her grandfather had set for her, and as she had pursued her medical career, Tanaka Junichi had kept her sheltered and oblivious from the cruelty that ran rampant in this world of heroes and villains. She had been so completely focused on her medical pursuits that reality had been replaced with fantasy.

It was as if that protective bubble had suddenly been popped.

The life she had lived up until this moment had been a lie. She had come to believe that evil could not touch her somehow, as it had her parents. She had come to believe that she was immune to these things, but she was not.

She was just as human and just as vulnerable as everyone else, she realized that now.

And that scared her.

She watched numbly as Aizawa launched himself from the steps, and her mind came back into focus as 13 beckoned her to follow. Reality came crashing down in an instant and her senses returned to her.

_We're leaving him behind? But even a pro hero won't make it against so many, we can't just abandon him like this…but what can I do? I'm supposed to put the student's safety first, and my quirk won't make any difference. _

_I can't even fight. If I try to help him I'll only get in his way._

Her feet moved to follow the rest as she wrestled with herself. She wasn't sure what to do, and her mind was scattered as she attempted to swallow her fear and step up to what she needed to be in that moment.

_Fake it. _She reasoned desperately with herself. _Just fake it. Even if you're scared you can't let it show. These kids are going to be looking to the adults in this situation, if they see you scared they might panic._

She swallowed harshly as she ran alongside the students, forcing her face into a stony mask in hopes of putting on a believable farce.

And it almost worked for her, until the strange essence of dark swirling matter suddenly appeared in front of their evacuation route, blocking any hopes of a successful escape. Their group came to a screeching halt.

A sense of collective terror seemed to linger between them, and the air felt cooler as the misty darkness expanded and began to speak.

"A warm welcome from the League of Villains." The voice that echoed from within the empty darkness greeted them, it's sound dismembered. "I know it's impolite, but we invited ourselves into this haven of justice to say hello. But isn't this such a fitting place for All Might to take his last breath? Tell me, where is the Symbol of Peace? He was supposed to be here, was he not?"

Miya's felt her eyes narrow angrily, a mix of righteous indignation and barely concealed terror. How had they known that?

The villain was greeted with silence and shocked faces. For a brief period, nobody moved as the villain continued.

"An unfortunate change of plans, but I still have a role to play."

Faster than the time it took her to blink, Kirishima and Bakugou had launched themselves straight into an offensive attack, the two hard-headed young men reacting on instinct of fight or flight, and they had chosen to fight.

The foe spoke then in a triumphant taunt, the message and ominous tone chilling.

"You live up to your school's reputation." The horrible and dismembered voice awarded. "But you should be careful, children, or somebody might get hurt."

That was the last thing Miya heard before the darkness enveloped them, swallowing her whole.

.

* * *

.

Her mouth was full of grass.

That was the first thing she noticed as she slowly came to her senses.

She blinked. Once, twice, and then again.

Miya pushed herself up with her hands, wiping dirt off her face and spitting out a few bits of greenery that had found themselves inside her mouth. Sitting up, she peered around at her surroundings in utter confusion.

She had just been near the entrance of the USJ, hadn't she? That had been before that strange bodiless villain had engulfed their group. But she was alone now and confused about how she had come to be in the middle of what looked to be a forest. Where were the others?

Her ears perked as she heard a yell and the sound of an impact some distance away to her left. It sounded like fighting, like a man was fighting, but it was too far away to tell who it could have been.

She stood shakily as the pieces came together in her mind.

_That's right…All those villains were somehow brought here by the creep that made the portals. It looks like he's able to create some sort of warp gate. _

_I'll bet he probably divided us up and scattered us throughout the USJ, so they can pick us off one by one._

Miya frowned at the thought. Things weren't looking particularly good at the moment.

But one thing stood out among all the facts that were stacking against them: she had been deposited in a forested environment.

Miya Tanaka had been thrust into an environment where her quirk would flourish, where she would have the upper hand, and that could only mean one thing: the villains didn't know a thing about them.

The villains didn't know she had a quirk that could influence plant life and organic matter, and that likely meant they didn't know the quirks of the students either. The fact that their abilities were unknown by the enemy was something that gave them the upper hand – they now had an element of surprise on their side. That thought gave her the burst of confidence she needed to put some semblance of a plan into motion.

She was still scared, still reeling at suddenly being thrust into the reality of what heroes dealt with on a day-to-day basis, but she now felt a spark ignited in her chest as she grasped tightly to the thought of why she had wanted to become a hero in the first place.

She had to move, she had to help the others.

Thinking fast, Miya grabbed a branch of the nearest tree that looked to be one of the taller ones and hoisted herself up. The climb was not nearly as hard as she had originally speculated it might be, most likely thanks to the weight and endurance training that her mentor had been putting her through.

_I didn't think I'd be saying this, but thank you for pushing me so hard, Aizawa. _

There were probably villains waiting for her in the forest, and a higher vantage point would not only help her to spot them before they spotted her, but also allow her to see what was happening in the rest of the USJ as well and make a plan of action based on what she observed.

She wasn't prepared to fight any villains, she was well aware of that. So, for now she would climb, it seemed like her best option. She needed more information before she just charged recklessly into a fight.

Up she climbed, higher and higher, until her palms were cut and rubbed raw from hard bark and her muscles shook from exertion. Miya was thankful in that moment for her light physique and flexibility as she moved upwards as silently as she was able.

_Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down._

Finally, her head emerged above the canopy when she had reached one of the top branches of the tall tree. She didn't dare climb any further, for the branches above her head were growing thinner and thinner and she wasn't sure they would support her weight. A fall from this height would likely kill her, or at least break most of her bones if she did manage to survive.

Pushing that gruesome thought from her mind, she took a moment to survey the USJ, grimacing as she soaked it all in.

It looked as though her assumptions had been correct. The students had been scattered throughout the training facility in small groups so that the villains could pick them off. A smart strategy, she would give them that.

But what that strategy didn't entail was the resolve and talent of class 1-A, as well as the two powerful pro heroes who were here with them.

She could see Todoroki freezing villains left and right in the landslide zone. Rampant explosions signified that Bakugou had most likely been dumped in the city-scape. She saw Midoriya with Asui and Mineta aboard the shipwreck, and a few others with 13 still near the entrance.

Her grip tightened in distress when she spotted Aizawa attempting to take on the majority of the villains not far from where the wooded area began. From her spot within the trees she could see the villain who had covered himself in hands watching as Aizawa battled on.

There was something about that man, something that made her insides twist unpleasantly.

The blue-haired man stood calmly, subtly scratching at his neck and face next to a truly terrifying creature that looked as if it might be trouble.

_Is that thing even human? _

Somehow, she doubted it.

Her grimace twisted further on her face when she heard voices beneath her, and she glanced down to catch a glimpse of three villains through the foliage. She was high above them, and it was likely they wouldn't think to look up this high, but she wouldn't underestimate them.

She stayed silent and still as a rock as she listened to their conversation.

"I thought we were supposed to find at least one of them here…do you think they have some sort of camouflage quirk? We've been looking for a while now, we should have found one of those brats already!"

"I'll crush them alive when I find them!"

"At least let me have a little snack before you do, the more scared they are the better they taste!"

"Ugh, did we have to get stuck with the cannibal?"

Miya gulped. A cannibal? She hoped that she had heard wrong.

Her mind spun as she thought about her options. It looked like Todoroki and Bakugou were handling things well on their end. From her position above she could also see the students who were with 13 pulling through alright. Midoriya was speaking with Asui and Mineta fervently, and Tsuyu was well adept for the water scene. She could not see the others who were out of her line of vision and inside the other simulation chambers, but she had a feeling they might be holding their own.

These villains didn't seem particularly competent from what she had observed so far. So why bring them? Were they hoping to overpower two pro heroes and an entire class of powerful quirk users to get to All Might? How had they known the schedule anyways? Even Miya hadn't been informed until their arrival that he was supposed to have been there as well.

Nobody would be foolish enough to launch an attack so bold - unless they were certain of victory or had a powerful trick up their sleeve. So, which was it? What secret weapon did they have to make them so confidant?

Her gaze drifted again in unease towards the blue-haired man and the creature that looked like it could have come straight out of a nightmare.

She had no facts, no proof to back up her assumption that those two were the key to all of this. It was just a gut feeling, only an instinct, but that feeling had yet to fail her.

She needed to move, to do something. She had to get to Aizawa somehow, she had to find a way to be useful. If she was right, and those two somehow had a way to defeat the number one hero, then Aizawa was in danger. And he was starting to slow down.

She needed to get to him…but how?

She took a large breath that shuddered on its way out, and her body trembled as she entertained the idea of intervening in such a dangerous scenario.

_This is what being a hero means, this is what they do. They help others, they constantly place themselves in danger to save people. This is what I've signed up for, this is what I wanted to be._

_Think, Miya! Use that brain of yours and think!_

She racked her mind, head buzzing as she considered multiple scenarios that were likely to end in failure.

"Hey, I found her, she's up in that tree!"

_Crap._

Miya gripped so tightly to the bark of the tree that it cut her palm, and a small line of blood dripped down her wrist.

_Think, think fast, you have to think of something!_

It came to her then, amidst roiling emotions and desperation.

"_Have you ever practiced on anything like trees?" _

She heard Aizawa's question to her clearly, the one he had asked on the bus ride here.

She had no idea if it would work or not. The most she had ever practiced was with the vine plant in her apartment, willing the plant to grow until she had found her entire room completely covered in vines, leaving her abode looking like some sort of exotic jungle instead of a two-bedroom apartment in Musutafu.

She wasn't sure if anything would happen, and there was no telling if she would be successful or not. But she had to try, she had nothing to lose.

Miya closed her eyes, planting her palms firmly against the bark of the tree as she willed her quirk out of its dormant sleeping. The warm flow of energy connected her to the life and energy of the tree, and she found herself connected to the large plant in both body and spirit.

_Please._ She willed the organic life form as she poured as much energy into the plant as she could. _Move. Move. Move. REGENERATE!_

And then she felt it.

The tree shifted, leaning to the right as the wood seemed to groan loudly. The large plant rumbled with energy, coming to life beneath her fingers.

Miya watched in astonishment as a large root shot out from the ground, growing rapidly and in the direction she was willing it to as she quickly regenerated matter to help the root to grow substantially and allowing her to influence the direction it took.

The root wrapped around the group of villains before they had a chance to move, lifting their shocked forms into the air before slamming them into a neighboring tree.

It happened fast, and she could feel a certain type of high she had never before experienced, a type of power that flowed through her veins and made her feel invincible. In just one instant, she was connected to the universe, and the universe was within her. Energy flowed throughout her body, humming and vibrating and barely contained within her form.

And then she puked.

The villains fell to the ground unconscious, and the root dropped limply to the side when Miya cut off her flow of energy into the plant.

It was too much, far too much for her body to handle, and she coughed between heaving retches as her stomach tightened. She had used too much energy, but it had felt so good in that one moment that she hadn't wanted to stop. It was as though her body had some sort of emergency shut off switch, and had deactivated her quirk for her.

She wobbled on her feet for one terrifying moment as a wave of nausea and dizziness hit her with force, nearly causing her to lose her footing.

_Note to self, try dangerous experiment when feet are planted firmly on ground. _

She waited a few minutes longer, digging into her pocket for a protein bar she had stashed there before attempting to climb back down. It seemed trivial to be snacking at a time like this, but she knew it was necessary; she couldn't afford to slip and she would need more energy to heal anybody who may have need of her.

She waited until the dizziness had passed until beginning her descent to the green carpet of the forest biome. The climb down was a bit more difficult than the climb up, but she eventually made it all the way back down without falling to her death.

She wiped absentmindedly at her nose when she felt a certain wetness there, scowling when the back of her sleeve returned stained a deep burgundy. She would need to eat again soon if she was going to heal anybody or try to use her quirk again without damaging her own body.

She only had so much energy she could give, after all.

A yell was heard then, coming from the direction that she knew Aizawa was still battling villains. Miya recognized his voice when the yell came again. She knew that type of yell, she knew it intimately. She was a doctor and a surgeon, she knew what it sounded like when one was in extreme pain.

She reacted without thinking, her feet moving of their own accord to carry her straight towards the heart of the battle.

She would go to him and hopefully be of some use. He had been slowing down when she spotted him from up in the tree, and she could only assume that he had now been overpowered. It would have had to happen eventually, no matter how good the hero was.

The image of the icy-haired man and the strange beast flashed in her mind once again, and she sped her pace at the thought of it. Those two were trouble, she had no doubt.

Her pace was quick and her footfalls steady as she pushed forward. Perhaps it was the rush of adrenaline in her system, but the fear was no longer dominating her mind, she had been able to push it to the side for the time being.

All she could think about was the blue haired man and Aizawa's pained shouts. She sped her pace again, pushing herself even further despite the fatigue she was feeling. Would she be too late? She would soon know.

Miya burst from the tree line and into the action, propelling herself headfirst into danger, hoping that she might be able to help him and the students in what was likely to be a suicide charge.

She would help, she would give it her all like the students and Aizawa were.

She would help, or she would die trying.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N - Updates will now be two weeks apart! Sorry for forgoing weekly updates, but I'm having trouble keeping up with both of my stories at the same time and want to be able to write well instead of quickly.**

**Thanks for reading and have a lovely weekend!**

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Tanaka Miya was an idiot.

But at least she could die letting it be known she had been a brave idiot in her final hours.

She was standing there like a lamb before the slaughter, limbs shaking from exertion and terror, a physical barrier between the strange man with the icy blue hair and her mentor.

Aizawa Shouta was in a bad state. In fact, the word 'bad' didn't quite do justice to his current predicament. That horrifying monster called 'Nomu' had broken both of his arms, bludgeoned his face, and had just smashed his head into the ground. Blood seeped into the pavement beneath him, and Miya was sure that the visible injuries were not a true reflection of the true amount of damage that had been inflicted on his body.

She stood between them with her hands spread wide and no plan of action whatsoever. Her first priority had been to get to Aizawa when she'd first heard him yell in pain, and she hadn't thought through the rest.

In reality, they were probably screwed. She usually wasn't a 'glass half empty' kind of gal, but with this Nomu and the powerful villain in front of her whose quirk was still unknown, along with Aizawa out of commission and the students still scattered, she had surmised already that they stood little chance at any victory.

Her action was essentially suicide, but she would be darned if she stuck around waiting in the trees for someone to save her. The trees weren't even an option any longer; her energy was too low, she wouldn't have enough to try to move another tree and it was smarter to try and save what little energy she had left for the wounded – if they actually made it out of here in one piece.

And that chance of survival looked as though it was getting lower and lower with every second that passed. The villain with the hands attached to his body would likely kill her before help arrived, _if_ it arrived in time.

The odds were not in their favor.

And here she was, throwing herself in-between a powerful villain and a powerful hero, as if she were also on the same level as they were.

She was not, she was just stupid. Brave, but stupid.

The only inkling of a plan she had was to stall for as long as she could. She had seen Tenya Iida attempting to break through the doors, and she had assumed he was going to call for reinforcements. If he was successful, pro heroes would arrive as quickly as they were able.

And if he was not successful? At least she could say that she had tried instead of dying as a coward. So for now, she would stall; hopefully, it would be enough to buy Iida enough time to alert the school of the situation at hand.

But there were still minutes between those two events where time would not stand still for them. A few minutes could mean life or death for Aizawa, 13, herself, and the students. These few minutes would be vital, and if she actually did manage to distract him or stall for long enough, it could mean their survival.

"Stay where you are and let him go." She spoke, her voice breathy and shaking.

Miya lifted her head and jutted her chin out, hoping to display a false sense of confidence to him as she gave orders to a criminal.

She was going to die. The villain in front of her was looking at her with his red eyes widening in what looked to be an immense amusement and delight. She could see the malicious intent in his gaze that was hardly visible behind shaggy hair and a hand that had been attached to his face.

Oh yeah, she was going to die alright.

"And what do we have here?" He questioned in delight, clapping his hands together as if it were some sort of game. "A civilian? A nurse, perhaps? I suppose a nurse makes the most sense if you aren't a hero or student. Have you come to play with the big boys?"

The taunt was clear in his voice, and the underlying threat even clearer.

A muffled shout came from behind her, as Aizawa attempted to relay her some sort of message, but the Nomu twisted his wrist to produce a sickening crack, and his words were cut off with a horrible groan of agony before his face was smashed back into the pavement.

The bone had broken through his flesh, sticking out grotesquely – a compound fracture.

Her features twisted at the sight of it before she glanced back towards the man radiating evil who had begun to take slow steps towards her. She felt sick.

He took a step forward, and then another, but Miya stood her ground.

"I'll tell you what," The villain in front of her cackled to himself, the sound sending chills down her spine. "You can have a ten second head start, we can play a little game of cat and mouse before I rip you apart for standing in my way. How does that sound?"

Miya swallowed harshly, but still did not move, even as he approached closer. They were now close enough to touch.

She knew he was toying with her, his steps and motions were far too relaxed, as if he hadn't a care in the world. It was obvious he did not feel threatened by her presence.

_Distract him, buy some time. Iida was probably able to get through the gates, back up will be here soon enough. Keep him engaged as long as possible!_

"All Might –" She began, knowing that she had piqued his interest when his footsteps halted, leaving them just two meters away from each other. "You want him dead, but why? It's not just about killing the Symbol of Peace, is it? You seem too well-organized for something as mundane as terrorism - that's for common criminals, but you aren't just some common criminal, are you?"

_Stoke his ego, make him feel acknowledged. He's more likely to say something if he feels like he has more recognition, power, and control. _

_He's already shown an arrogant streak by planning such a bold attack – he wants recognition, he wants people to know his name. And I can use that to my advantage._

It was basic psychology she was putting into practice, and though her medical career was more focused on research and surgical procedure rather than psychiatry or psychology, she was still versed enough to know what to say to entice him into a conversation that would hopefully be enough to distract him.

"Perceptive, aren't you, little nurse?" He jeered, leaning back and scratching vigorously at his neck in a sense of excitement.

Perhaps she had a death wish, or perhaps she just wanted to die by the correct title she had worked most of her life to achieve, but Miya corrected him.

"I'm a doctor." She spat, and his grin widened even further, as if she had made a particularly funny joke. "Answer my question. What good will killing All Might do? What sets you apart from any other criminal from the gutter?"

The scratching on the neck continued before he stopped abruptly and took two steps forward, stretching out his hand in a childlike sense of curiosity towards her.

He reached towards her, and she flinched instinctively as two of his fingers touched her hair. She was frozen as he fingered a lock of her long hair between his index finger and thumb.

"Do you have any idea how delicate this society is? How you go about your day while the world balances between order and chaos and the governments profit from it? Do you know how simple it would be to light the match and watch it all burn?" He continued to twirl the lock of hair he held, with a touch so delicate she could hardly feel it. "Society will crumble, the justice system of this world will fail, and out of the ashes I will create something better. But first, I want to destroy it."

_Bingo._

It hadn't taken much, she had hardly needed to prompt him at all. With just a few words flattering a villainous ego to elevate him above common villains and criminals, he had already revealed a new world vision to her, one that involved destroying their current society and rebuilding it from scratch.

Miya frowned, and the man cocked his head subtly as if surprised to see she was somehow unimpressed with that vision of the future.

She was not impressed, not in the slightest.

The man was deranged, clinging to a violent ideology that would upset the balance in the world that had taken years to come to. Sure, the world was not perfect, nor were its heroes or leaders, but that was no reason to burn it to the ground and start over again.

He sounded like an idealist with a plan that didn't extend much further than widespread violence and anarchy. He hadn't stated a single thing about what he might do once he had launched their world into chaos. Perhaps he truly believed ruling a nation, or even the world, was an easy task if one was powerful enough.

But it wasn't.

All for One had tried many years ago, and he had failed. Not only had he been defeated by the very heroes he so despised, the common people had revolted as well.

_What a load of crap._

But Miya did not voice that sentiment aloud. She had to keep stalling.

"But enough about the future. Let's talk about the present." He cocked his head further, sickening smile spreading further He gave a sudden yank at the lock of hair he had previously held so delicately, and Miya hissed at the sensation. "Where is All Might? He was supposed to be joining the party."

_Keep stalling, keep calm, keep it together!_

"That's a pretty lofty dream you've got there." She acknowledged, changing the subject and taking a small step back. Her hair slid out of his fingers as she moved a step closer to where Aizawa lay. "Killing the Symbol of Peace and throwing society into anarchy sounds like tough work. I'm sure it's probably easier when you have somebody on the inside, isn't it? That's how you knew All Might would be here today, right?"

It was the only possibility that made sense.

Only the staff at UA had known about the specific details of this training, and class 1-A had only been informed of All Might's supposed attendance the day of. That detail in particular hadn't even been mentioned inside any of their staff group chats, so cyber spying was ruled out.

Miya had come to that conclusion not long after the villain with the warping quirk had asked after All Might's whereabouts before he had split them up throughout the USJ.

The information would have had to have come from within. There was no other way.

"Keen intellect." Was his praising answer, neither confirming or denying anything she had asked. "Yet you choose to squander it among self-righteous brats and heroes. A shame."

Before Miya had the chance to bait him with something else, dark matter appeared out of thin air, swirling and taking form behind the villain in front of her.

"Shigaraki Tomura." The dismembered voice addressed cordially.

Miya cursed internally at the distraction. She'd had him completely engaged and had even gleaned some useful information. And she had been successful up until now at stalling for more time until help arrived. But now that was moot.

The trance had been broken, and she was unsure if she would be able to draw his attention back long enough without him getting suspicious.

The warp-villain continued.

"I was unable to stop one of the students from escaping the facility. The mission is compromised."

The reaction was instantaneous, like taking a toy away from a toddler. The man, who she now knew as Shigaraki Tomura, was enraged.

He scratched at his neck until he drew blood, spewing threats and curses at the messenger of bad news. It looked like a full-blown temper tantrum, and it made Miya uneasy to see him transition from cool and collected to having a melt-down in mere seconds.

She didn't need to be a doctor to tell that the man had some sort of psychiatric disorder. It was quite apparent that his mentality was not developed in the way that most adults were.

Miya looked back again towards Aizawa as Shigaraki raged on, who was lying motionless in a pool of his own blood. The slight twitching of his fingers told her that he was still conscious, and if not conscious, at least alive.

"There's no way we can win if dozens of pros are on their way to stop us. It's game over." Shigaraki's voice interrupted her internal worries, tone now completely calm in a way that screamed danger. Miya felt her eyes narrow as she took in his suspiciously calmed demeanor. "But before I go, let's leave All Might a message, something that will wreck his pride."

Miya saw his hand moving towards her as if time had slowed.

"I'm sorry, little miss doctor, I did enjoy our conversation." Shigaraki sneered, taking another step forward with his entire hand outstretched. "But an innocent young woman's death on his hand will be enough to break him, I'm certain!"

The young doctor took a step backwards, but she was not fast enough.

Miya heard a grunt and the sound of a struggle from behind her, and Aizawa's voice carried loudly in the air with a desperate warning.

"His quirk deconstructs, Miya! Maintain an equilibrium!" He yelled the command, before the Nomu's hand came crashing down on his head to smother his words.

The sound of bone crunching followed, and he did not speak again.

Miya heard a yell of complete despair coming from the shoreline that sounded faintly like Midoriya, but her mind was too focused on the sight of the hand about to fall upon her face and the words that Aizawa had managed to relay to her despite his injuries.

_Deconstruction?_

_Equilibrium?_

The meaning behind his message clicked in her head just mere moments before it was too late. Miya activated her quirk just before his hand made contact with her face.

His hand reached, all five fingers grabbing onto her face and squeezing roughly as he dug his nails into her flesh. For a horrible moment, Miya was sure she was truly taking her last breath. She waited, wondering if this was where her life might end.

Nothing happened.

A moment of shock passed between the villain and the aspiring hero, and Miya sucked in a ragged breath at finding herself unharmed after following Aizawa's command. She was alive and unscathed, despite the villain's best attempts – and now she had an opening.

Miya reacted quickly, taking advantage of Shigaraki's shell shocked moment of utter confusion to reel her elbow back and throw a solid punch, catching him in the jaw and forcing him to the ground.

Her thumb and index finger cracked from the blow, and she realized then that in her haste of throwing the first punch of her entire life, she had just broken two of her fingers from what she assumed was an improper form. But the adrenaline was rushing, and she felt none of the pain that was sure to follow.

_I just punched a villain in the face. I just punched a VILLAIN in the FACE._

That thought was surreal to her as she stared down at him. The icy-haired villain gazed up at her from his position sprawled on the ground with wide eyes, a hand held to his jaw as if he couldn't quite take in what had just happened. Perhaps it was the first time his quirk had been rendered useless on somebody else, or perhaps it was the first time he had been punched like that.

Miya couldn't blame his reaction, she was in the same boat as he was. She was just as shocked, if not more.

She really ought to have been dead by now; and if it hadn't been for Aizawa's last minute message, she most likely would have been. His call for equilibrium was what had saved her life.

Shigaraki's quirk was apparently one that decayed and deconstructed any organic life matter he touched, she had seen the evidence on Aizawa's elbow and put the pieces together after his warning; but hers was one that regenerated it – their quirks were polar opposites of each other.

By activating her quirk, one that did the reverse of his, she had been able to maintain a perfectly balanced transmission of energy. For as much energy that he had poured into her body in an effort to disintegrate her flesh, she had regenerated it just as quickly while countering the precise amount of energy he was using with her own, effectively canceling out any effects his quirk might have had.

It was dynamic equilibrium through energy by definition, a concept of basic physics and chemistry that any scientist would have knowledge of.

It was a long shot, and she had been incredibly lucky that she had been focused enough to counter it. Any mistakes or imbalances between energy input and output and it would have left her either decaying or dead. Her calculations had to be precise.

Her own quirk, along with a basic understanding of science, had saved her life.

It was in that instance, as they stared at each other in disbelief, that the doors to the training facility were blasted open and Miya was met with a statement that gave her the most relief she had ever felt in her entire life.

"Have no fear. I am here!"

Miya sank to her knees in relief, the façade of courage slipping from her as she choked on her own breath.

All Might had arrived, and before she knew it, she and Aizawa had been moved out of harm's way with amazing speed from the world's top hero.

It was over, and they were alive.

.

* * *

.

"No, I already told you that I can heal myself! Back off!" Miya wrestled with a pair of paramedics who were giving it their all to try and get her into the back of an ambulance. "I don't need any medical treatment! I need to heal those heroes!"

"Calm down, the ambulances will take them to the hospital so that they can be treated by a professional!"

"I _AM _a professional!"

"Ma'am, I already told you that we really have to follow protocol, you look like you have some minor injuries and –"

"And _I _already told _you _that I'm a doctor and I outrank you, so you can get your hands off of me! Just get me something to eat and I'll be fine! I have to see to my mentor and the students."

"Ma'am, I really must insist that you sit down and let us take a look over!"

"And I really _must insist_ that you let me go before I get your licenses revoked!"

The two paramedics shared an exasperated look with each other.

"Can she do that?" Asked the first, warily.

"Of course not, she's crazy!" Answered the second, growing more and more tired of the troublesome woman.

If Principal Nezu was surprised to see his newly hired doctor practically foaming at the mouth and being restrained by two paramedics while they tried to force her into the back of an ambulance, it didn't show on his mild features. Vlad King, who followed closely behind him, also showed no expression of emotion.

"May I ask what the commotion is about?" He asked politely, a small smile under his whiskers. "Is this woman critically injured? If she is well enough, I would like her returned to her work. I hear she was interrupted while administering treatment."

"Uh, well, no sir." One of the paramedics relaxed his grip, and Miya used the opportunity to yank her arm from his hold. "We're just following protocol. This crazy woman is claiming to be a doctor and threatening to revoke our licenses and won't abide by the standard procedures for treatments, but she doesn't have a hospital ID."

"I see." Nezu responded amiably. "And what hospital have you been sent from?"

"Musutafu Metropolitan." The two answered in unison, a certain level of pride displayed at being able to give that answer. It was the best hospital in their area, after all.

"How wonderful! Dr. Tanaka was previously employed there as well! In fact, she is still registered as an on-call surgeon with special privileges if I remember correctly." His smile widened as the two paramedics seemed to shrink. "I would say the threat of her revoking your licenses remains valid. I suggest you let my faculty member go if she says that she does not need your treatment."

The two shared a gob-smacked look with each other, slowly releasing the woman with a slow nod.

Miya hopped off the back of the ambulance, casting the two a dirty look that shook them to the core. Falling into stride with Vlad King, Nezu continued as the made their way to the ambulance where Aizawa and 13 were waiting on stretchers to be loaded into the back.

"Are you truly able to continue in your current state, Dr. Tanaka?" Nezu asked next, keeping his gaze focused ahead of him. "Have you reached the limit to your abilities?"

"Not yet. I'm just a bit roughed up and too low on energy, but I'll be fine if I eat something." Miya stated as she healed the bones of her right hand while they moved forward. "If Recovery Girl is okay to handle things on campus, I'd like to ask your permission to oversee Eraserhead and 13's hospital treatment. I know the chief of surgery, he'll give me the case if I ask for it."

"You have my permission. I would prefer it be handled by one of our own, so as to keep things quiet. This incident will likely spark media outrage." Miya nodded at his statement, relieved to have been granted permission to accompany them. "These two are the most grievously injured, and the students will be sent to Recovery Girl to keep them away from public eye. You will be expected to return to the campus to tend to the students when things are under control at the hospital."

"Of course, sir." Miya returned keenly as she quickened her pace when they had approached the two fallen heroes strapped to gurneys.

She nodded at a different paramedic, this time one who recognized her and immediately handed her a medical kit without waiting to be asked.

She felt the gazes of the principal and Vlad King on her back as she greeted the paramedic and launched into full-blown doctor mode. She ignored them, instead focusing on Aizawa, who was the most seriously injured and looked to be slipping in and out of consciousness.

She was no longer a young woman and aspiring hero who puked when she ran too much and questioned herself in front of pro heroes. She was back to being just Dr. Tanaka again, and that was something she was good at.

She slipped into her role easily. Medicine was familiar to her, and it was easy to distance her emotions from her work as she slipped on a pair of gloves and approached Aizawa.

"Triage?" She demanded, pulling the red coded triaging tag that had been pinned to the front of his clothing.

The paramedic responded immediately.

"Male, 30, multiple breaks in both arm and one leg, including a compound fracture of the left wrist and a shattered elbow. Right elbow has shown signs of rapid decay that is uncontainable. Possible fractures throughout the face and skull. Possible broken ribs on the left side. Deep laceration under the right eye and one the scalp."

Miya bobbed her head, face as cold as stone as she hid behind a professional attitude of a medical care provider.

"Call ahead and order a full body MRI and head CT. Page the head of Neurology as well." She ordered as she grabbed a small flashlight and leaned over his face.

Gently opening his eyelids with one hand, she used her other hand to shine the light into his eye, frowning when she did not see the movement she had hoped for.

His pupils had not dilated as much as they should have in order for her to rule out possible damage to his eyesight or a serious concussion.

Grabbing a pen from the medical bag, she updated his tag with 'possible concussion and damage to sight'.

She turned then to Nezu and the imposing hero at his side.

"Principal Nezu, would you be able to call ahead to the hospital to inform the chief of surgery that I have express permissions to use my quirk? I need to start the process now, this 'Shigaraki' guy got his elbow and I'm going to try to reverse the decay first."

The mouse-like principal nodded seriously.

"Certainly. I entrust the care of these two to you, Dr. Tanaka."

She gave him a quick thumbs up as he retreated back to the students, before moving to Aizawa's side and taking his arm to get a better look at his elbow.

"Dr. Tanaka." She looked up in faint curiosity to see that Vlad King had not yet left.

Suddenly, his hand moved, digging into his pocket to fish out a small object to toss at her. She caught it with her free hand, bringing the item closer to her face for inspection.

He'd thrown her a power bar.

Miya beamed at him, quickly opening the wrapper and shoving half of it in her mouth with one bite. She would need extra energy to reverse the decay and keep it from spreading, and then even more to see to both his injuries and the less serious ones of 13.

"You did well." The large man admitted begrudgingly. Miya only stared at him as she stuffed the rest of the power bar in her mouth and then crumpled the wrapper before shoving it in her pocket. "Keep it up."

It was all he said as he turned to follow after Nezu as well. Miya stared after him for a short few moments in surprise before shaking her head in an attempt to rid herself of distractions and repositioning Aizawa's arm so that she could begin her work.

Miya took a large breath as she willed her quirk to activate. Her hands began to glow as she closed her eyes and tuned out the noise of the ambulance sirens and focused intently on the rigorous task at hand. She was pushing herself past her limit, but she would just have to pay the price for that later.

The trouble at the USJ was over, and the League of Villains had been kept at bay for now.

But her work was just beginning.

.

* * *

.

He groaned angrily as he felt the pain radiating in his limbs.

Blood began to seep out from underneath him, staining the rich wooden slabs of the bar's floor. The television screen was displaying static, but he knew that The Doctor and his Master would be able to hear him through it.

Shigaraki Tomura was enraged, so enraged that his blood ran hot and he could hardly feel the bullet holes that had pierced his flesh and left him immobile on the ground. He writhed on the floor, feeling as though he was boiling inside his skin.

That All Might…his Nomu…the girl who had somehow evaded his quirk…the green-haired brat…

It was all too much. The thoughts swarmed like angry bees inside his mind, and he could feel himself beginning to truly lose his composure. The urge to drag his fingers across his flesh until he bled was there again, and he bit his tongue to keep from screaming like he wanted to.

His Master and The Doctor were listening. He had to be good, he had to show them he was able to keep himself under control.

He did not scream, nor did he scratch.

"We failed…" He growled, looking towards the static on the television screen despite knowing both he and the parties on the other side could not see each other. "All Might wasn't weakened, Nomu was defeated, and that damn girl…You were wrong, Master! Wrong!"

He was burning alive, hot rage flowing through his veins and pulsing in beat with his heart. How could his Master have been fooled? How could Nomu have been defeated? How had that woman overpowered his quirk? Who was that young boy?

And himself, he hadn't even killed a single person to break All Might, to show him what true pain was. He wanted All Might to suffer, to know the pain that he knew, to be broken in the way that he had been broken. But that woman had somehow evaded death by his hands, and he realized now that she had played him, and he had fallen for it.

That girl was a fox, she had been toying with him the entire time, luring him into a conversation to stall for time and then flaunting her own power that had weakened his. He felt like a fool for having been outsmarted by someone who was even less than a bug beneath his boot, waiting to be squashed like the vermin she was. He had taken her bait, chomping on the lure like a fish begging to be reeled in.

She had hit him.

He hadn't let anyone touch him in years, let alone harm him like that, but she had survived his deconstructive powers somehow and landed a blow on his face when he'd been too shocked to think clearly.

_How_?

"No. I was not." His Master's voice filtered out through the television audio, negating Tomura's claims. "We just weren't as prepared as we should have been. Don't fear, we will strike them a crippling blow next time. You will have your revenge."

"And what about my creation?" Interjected The Doctor, cutting straight to the chase. "Where is Nomu? Why is he not with you?"

"He was blown away, All Might overpowered him and I was not able to use my warp to bring him with us." Kurogiri explained upon seeing the way Shigaraki's expression had twisted dangerously.

"What?" Demanded The Doctor, obviously displeased with the developments. "This is a travesty! And after all I did to make him as strong as All Might, he was still overpowered? Perhaps I need to adjust my design to add more power and better regenerative abilities."

_Power…_

_Regeneration…_

The pieces came together in Shigaraki's mind.

"There was a boy there who tried to defend All Might, his power was astoundingly similar…and that woman was somehow able to stop my quirk from harming her after Eraserhead told her to maintain an equilibrium…" He trailed off, beginning to understand what he had not before.

"Oh?" His Master inquired, the tone relaying that those two bits of information might have been more important than Shigaraki had originally believed.

"That's right." Affirmed the villain who lay bleeding on the floor. "If he hadn't interfered, and if she hadn't canceled out the effects of my quirk with her own, then we might have succeeded. That _brat_…that _stupid woman…!"_

"Naturally, you are upset." Intervened His Master once more, before the man on the floor could spiral out of control. "Remember that we have learned many important things with this mission, we have not failed. Shigaraki Tomura, the world will soon fear that name."

That statement cooled the rage in his veins, and he clung to those words and the dream he had devoted himself to in an effort to calm himself.

"The girl," Asked The Doctor suddenly, and Shigaraki couldn't help that his eyes narrowed at her mention. "In order to cancel out your quirk she must be in possession of one that reconstructs matter rather than deconstructing it. A regenerative quirk would be quite useful in my research and to the League. I could make my Nomus invincible if I could replicate in them what her body does with her quirk."

A moment of silence passed, as his Master hummed to himself.

"That would be useful indeed. But it is too soon to make a move." He acknowledged, though his tone held a note of an unspoken promise to it. "Did you happen to hear the names of the boy or the woman?"

Shigaraki thought back, sifting through memory until he remembered. All Might had addressed the boy as 'Midoriya', and Eraserhead had called the woman by 'Miya'.

He scowled as he lifted his head, spitting out their names as if he were saying a foul curse.

"The boy is Midoriya, a student. The girl was called Miya, she said she was a doctor."

His Master chuckled from behind the screen.

"Very good, my disciple, very good."


	7. Chapter 7

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

A repetitive electronic noise was the first thing that registered on his ears.

It was not one of the sounds he was normally accustomed to hearing upon waking, but his mind seemed a bit too foggy to place why that might be.

In a normal scenario, he would hear the sounds of cars honking and other obnoxious city noise from his drafty apartment window. Perhaps Kuro would be meowing for food. Every now and again, if he was lucky, there might be bird song filtering through the air. And then there was the subtle but consistent ticking of an old clock on the otherwise bare wall.

But he heard none of that. No car horns, no cats, no clocks. Just that annoying beeping noise that was steadily increasing in tempo as his conscious stirred to life.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

He shifted slightly, wiggling his fingers and feeling his limbs respond to his call for movement, and he immediately wished he hadn't.

It hurt, and his body felt foreign to him, uncomfortable to an extent. He felt a deep ache in his bones, almost like the kind he had felt as a teen going through many growth spurts. His body felt warm, though he could tell he was not feverish.

It was almost as if there was something in his system that didn't belong to him, like some sort of foreign energy, or perhaps an extra presence in his body besides his own that seemed to linger in his veins. He didn't like it. It felt alien, unnatural.

He kept his eyes closed as he analyzed that strange feeling. Time seemed to pass slowly as he drifted in and out of consciousness, like a lazy Sunday morning when he chose to snooze his alarms and enjoy the peace he was rarely able to hold on to for very long.

He sucked in a startled breath when the memories hit him like a ton of bricks.

The attack at the USJ. Nomu. Shigaraki. The students in danger. His failure to defend them. The blue-haired woman throwing herself between them. His elbow decaying. His bones snapping like twigs and the agony that he'd endured until he could endure it no longer. Desperation.

Aizawa grunted, attempting to sit up but falling backwards onto a well-cushioned bed. He blinked, but saw darkness.

Running a panicked hand over his face, he calmed somewhat at finding the reason for the darkness before he ripped them off of his face. Bandages fluttered to the floor and his eyes were assaulted with an offensive light that made him cringe.

The underground hero breathed heavily as he took in his surroundings, emotions swirling violently within him. He groaned as his head pounded.

He glanced down at his elbow, but saw no evidence of the decay he was sure he might find there. But that couldn't possibly be right, he'd seen it happen with his own eyes, he'd felt his flesh disintegrating to expose his muscles to the air. He'd watched as his skin and ligaments rotted away…

"Shhhh."

His head swiveled at the sound, and he relaxed immediately upon seeing 13, who was once again back inside his suit and reclining on a hospital bed adjacent to him.

13 gave him a small wave and brought a finger to where his lips might be under the suit in an indication for silence. The Space Hero then nodded slowly to the side, and Aizawa let his vision follow the direction indicated.

Tanaka Miya was snoring in a chair that looked as if it might be very uncomfortable. The woman seemed to be unharmed, and had traded in her UA tracksuit for scrubs and a physician's coat with her name printed professionally upon the chest.

His shoulders sank in relief at seeing the her alive and well and drooling as she slept.

"The students." He rasped, voice hoarse from sleep and parched from lack of water.

"Everyone is safe, all major injuries were treated by Recovery Girl and Dr. Tanaka. Midoriya Izuku was the worst off, but he recovered quickly. Dr. Tanaka has been treating us here. We're at Musutafu Memorial Hospital." 13 informed him quickly, not wishing to cause him any more distress.

His heart relaxed in an instant, his worries dissipating as he let himself sit back upon the many pillows that had been used to keep him propped up as he slept.

"And you two?" He demanded next, letting his gaze drift between them, searching intently for signs of injury.

"I'm fine, only some lacerations to the back. Dr. Tanaka healed those quickly. As for her, she didn't even have a scratch, though she's been pushing herself too much. I think this is the first time I've seen her sleep in two days."

He exhaled slowly, the relief nearly tangible.

"You had us all worried for a while there, Eraser." 13 continued, looking pointedly at him. "With all those broken bones and a fractured skull, it didn't look good. But she pieced you back together."

As if on cue, the woman stirred in her chair before blinking blearily and rubbing at her eyes. Without yet having noticing her patient awake and responsive, she glanced at the clock, complaining with a frown when she read the time.

"13 –" She groaned in displeasure, rubbing at her eyes once more as she sat up fully. "You were supposed to wake me up after thirty minutes, not three hours! You broke the deal."

13 only shrugged, not looking particularly remorseful in the slightest.

"You needed the sleep." The hero in the space suit replied happily. "But look who just woke up!"

Her eyes widened substantially when they landed upon his form, and she was on her feet and in his face in an instant.

Before he could so much as blink, she was shining a flashlight in his eye, and he squinted at her in annoyance.

"A little warning would be nice." He bit, and she made a small 'tsk' in response.

"Hush, you." She frowned, looking straight into his eyes and moving close to his face in a way that made him somewhat uncomfortable from the proximity. "I saved your eyesight, so you owe me. Now stop complaining and follow my finger. It won't take long."

His lips set themselves in a tight line as he followed her instruction.

His eyes followed the finger she was moving back and forth in his field of vision while shining a horribly bright light into his eyes, but soon enough she nodded at the results and stored the offensive light back in the pocket of her doctor's coat. He blinked rapidly a few times to try and clear his vision from the glare that had been left behind, attempting to lean back once more upon the pillows, but the exam didn't stop there.

She tested his reflexes, mental cognition, had him perform various bodily movements and stretches in his flimsy hospital gown that made him feel exposed, and recorded all of his vitals three times to make sure the readings were correct. She was thorough to a point that was utterly obnoxious.

And when she moved close to him to check the laceration on his scalp that she had apparently resorted to stitching up by hand, he found himself in an even more uncomfortable situation: his face was directly parallel to her chest as she leaned over him, running a gloved hand over the sensitive flesh of the deep cut on his scalp.

The fabric of her blouse brushed ever so slightly against his nose, and he stiffened in response.

"Is this really necessary?" He mumbled in agitation, feeling a certain type of heat in his face that was usually uncommon for him, but he couldn't help it.

He felt overexposed, he'd been poked and prodded, and now she was uncomfortably close to him in a way he couldn't ignore as a man. He felt awkward and improper, but the woman remained blissfully unaware, humming happily to herself as she dug around in his scalp with her breasts in his face, and that made him even more agitated for some reason.

For somebody who had graduated medical school with top marks she was remarkably unaware of this basic aspect of human nature.

"Be patient. I'm almost done." She chastised, seemingly oblivious to the reason for his discomfort, before adding a teasing statement at the end. "Just be glad I didn't shave your head to get to this wound. I'm going to heal it now that I have the energy to. I just need to finish taking out the stitches first."

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and willing her to hurry it up. 13 chuckled from the side, and Aizawa felt his patience beginning to wear thin.

He jerked when he felt it.

"Oh! Sorry, Aizawa-san!" She bumbled immediately. "I should have warned you before I started. It might feel a bit warm or tingly."

He said nothing as she continued.

It did feel warm and tingly, she was correct. It was like the feeling of sipping on a warm cup of tea on a cold winter day. It was a warming sensation that felt familiar to him, but foreign at the same time. It was comforting, and he felt himself relaxing as he momentarily forgot about the awkward scenario he was in.

It was strange, but he could feel it as it happened. His scalp tingled as his flesh knit itself back together while she regenerated the healthy skin cells there. He could feel the warmth from her hands and the relief to the stinging pain, and he might have even gone so far as to call the sensation pleasant.

Before he knew it, the feeling had evaporated from him. He opened his eyes when he was certain she had stepped back to a more appropriate distance.

The tired man brought his fingers up to gently probe the area she had just attended to, before trailing them down his face to trace over a scar that was still somewhat sensitive under his right eye. What he was sure might have been a gaping or recently stitched wound was only a small ridge of scar tissue, as if the wound had been one from childhood and not just two days prior.

Her quirk was truly a wonder; what had once been torn flesh and painful wounds were now but scars that were only slightly sensitive to the touch.

She noticed the way she was tracing his finger over the scar and apologized immediately, lamenting the fact that she hadn't had enough energy to heal the scar tissue as well, claiming that she had used up too much from healing his sight and elbow.

He didn't particularly care. He wasn't usually one who took much pride in his appearance, foregoing fashion trends and neatly styled hair or clothing for utility and comfort. As long as he was clean and healthy, not much else really mattered. The scar didn't bother him, he felt indifferent to it.

He wasn't sure why it bothered her so much that she had left it behind. Her logic was rational; he would much rather her spend time on the more important things as she had seen fit to do, like his eyesight and his elbow, the rest was trivial.

As he ran his fingers over the inflamed scar tissue under his eye, Miya pulled out her phone when it pinged at her, face lighting up immediately upon scanning the contents of the message.

"Oh good, 13, your ride is here. Looks like you get to go home! Remember to apply the cream I gave you twice a day to minimize any swelling around the scar tissue." She smiled at the space hero, who nodded and stood.

"Get well soon, Eraser." 13 waved again, and Miya followed him out the door as they left to see him discharged, babbling about this or that as she went, he wasn't really listening.

And then, he was alone.

His thoughts ran rampant as he replayed the scenes from the attack over and over again inside his mind. Minutes passed like seconds as he thought about the events, the ways in which they had been attacked, the bold power play from the League of Villains, and what he could have done differently.

It ate at him, his own failure to protect his students and the woman who was interning under his authority felt heavy in his mind.

They had been his charges, his responsibility, and he had failed. It was inevitable given the circumstance he had been faced with, of course, but he had still failed.

Aizawa Shouta didn't consider himself a particularly prideful being, such emotions were irrational, but he had never before felt so powerless as he had during the attack on the USJ. All he could do was watch as his students, the same students he had been asked to protect, had been scattered and made to fight for their lives.

The looks of horror that had been painted on the faces of his class were ones he would never forget. He was sure their terrified expressions would haunt his dreams for many nights to come.

He was aware that they had performed beyond expectations, taking down wave after wave of villains who came their way, and he was proud of them for it.

But he wasn't concerned about their ability to fight, for he knew they were capable even as first years. What he _was_ concerned about was the possibility that they might have lost faith in their teacher, or worse, the establishment that had promised to train and protect them.

And perhaps that was what the League of Villains had been aiming for with this attack, using bold violence and blatant terrorism to scare his students and the world that was watching into submission.

Perhaps it was a way to say 'you aren't safe here, not even at schools or with the pro heroes'.

It was a smart approach, he would give them that. Using fear to cast doubt into their hearts was a smart plan, though he doubted it would work. These villains might get the outside talking and rile up the media, but they had underestimated the hearts and resolve of class 1-A, as well as the other students and faculty of UA.

A knock on the door sounded, and he wrenched himself from his thoughts at the sudden noise. He looked up warily as Miya slipped quietly inside, carrying two trays of food with her and something bundled under her arm.

"Here." She announced, setting a tray at his side table and dumping the bundled clothing in his lap. "I stole some scrubs for you. I know those hospital gowns don't do much for modesty or comfort. I think these should be the right size. Let me know if you need help changing, otherwise I'll step out so you can have privacy."

She busied herself then with unhooking him from the IV that had, up until that point, been supplying his body with a saline drip. He only felt a small pinch as she slid the needle out of his arm with ease and efficiency. He supposed that that she had probably done it a million times before.

He nodded at her in silent thanks before she slipped back out of the room.

His body ached as he stood on shaky legs and stepped into the scrubs, but he endured the pain that made him grind his teeth together to keep from shouting. He was just thankful to be rid of the flimsy hospital gown that was both scratchy and quite revealing.

He pushed the thought that she had probably seen him fully unclothed already to the back of his mind. Such things came about in medical emergencies, and he reminded himself that she was a professional. It would serve no logical purpose to dwell on the topic.

After having settled back onto his bed with much effort, he called her back in.

He scrutinized every inch of her skin and movements as she approached and seated herself in the chair next to his bed and handed him a tray. Her body looked to be completely unscathed, not a scratch on her. Dark circles under her eyes showed just how exhausted she must be, but that was the only thing that looked remotely abnormal to her appearance.

As if sensing his eyes on her form, she cocked a brow at him questioningly.

"It worked then, the equilibrium?" He spoke, tone darkening as he recalled the image of Shigaraki's hand reaching for her and recounting how helpless he had felt in that moment, unable to help or provide the protection that a teacher and mentor ought to. "You weren't harmed?"

He hadn't known if it would work or not, but it would have been incredibly foolish not to try in such dire circumstances. And it _had_ worked. She was here, sitting next to him with a warm body and poking at her meal.

She was lucky, they all were.

Her own face darkened for a moment as well.

"It worked. Thank goodness it did." Miya shifted uncomfortably in her chair at the thought. "I've never seen a quirk like that before. It's strong. And that creature…even All Might had a tough time with it. I'm not sure it was even human."

He grunted in acknowledgement. The villain's quirk certainly had been strong, but he knew from experience that the real trouble had arrived with the artificial being called Nomu. It was a frightening concept to think about, that such strength and resilience could be artificially created and reproduced.

And the battered teacher was willing to bet that if their enemy had created one, then others might follow.

"What happened afterwards?" He asked then, shaking the harrowing thought from his mind.

He was still putting pieces together, attempting to figure out what had occurred, and focusing on that strange creature would not help him in that quest.

"I punched him in the face."

He blinked once before his lips turned downwards at the answer she'd given him.

"I'm being serious." He frowned, not in the mood for her teasing at the moment.

"So am I." She replied, a small smile creeping over her features. "I hit him in the face and broke two of my fingers because I don't know how to throw a proper punch. All Might showed up a few moments later."

"You punched him." He reiterated her own statement blandly back to her. He was having trouble picturing the doctor punching anyone, let alone a villain.

She nodded and hummed happily, seemingly pleased with herself.

"He looked so surprised after his quirk didn't work on me, so I took the opportunity." She continued, poking at a rice ball on her tray in interest. "Can you imagine it? The first time I ever punched somebody and it was the ringleader of the League of Villains. Ha!"

His frown stretched further at her statement. In his mind, he couldn't fathom why that would be something to joke about. Either the woman at this side was attempting to cover up her own discomfort and fear at the memory, or she failed to grasp the severity of the situation.

She had done something incredibly stupid by throwing herself between them without any sort of plan other than stalling. His idea had been a gamble, and she was only alive because it had paid off.

But there was still that nagging voice in the back of his mind whispering to him that she had been put in that situation, and the lives of his students had been in danger because he hadn't been able to hold them back.

Of course, he knew it was illogical to have a thought process like that. If the world's number one hero had barely managed to take down the Nomu, he didn't stand a chance. His quirk was not suited towards combat of such a nature and had no effect on the creature. Perhaps if Shigaraki had launched an attack without the artificial creature of horrible strength, he might have had a better chance.

But that disturbing monster had crushed him into the ground and snapped his body like a twig, and he grimaced at the memory of it. The trauma was still fresh and his body still ached as he remembered the sounds of his own bones breaking in his ears.

And to think the same had almost happened to her and his class, the thought didn't sit well with him, not at all. A mixture of volatile emotion rose in his chest, but he beat it back down. Giving in to emotion would serve no purpose here.

"What you did at the USJ was incredibly foolish." He informed her bluntly, not sugar coating a single word. "If that plan hadn't worked you would have died. Only a moron would rush to battle without any strategy, and now you've made yourself a target."

Her jaw dropped, and her cheeks flushed with anger immediately.

"Would you rather I had just let you die then? Should I have stayed hiding and watched that monster break every bone in your body before it turned to your students?"

Aizawa fought the urge to grit his teeth together. She was failing to understand the point. Perhaps he had spoken too harshly, but he needed her to understand that such behavior was intolerable.

"I didn't say I'm ungrateful for your intervention, it gave the staff enough time to organize themselves and it most likely saved my life." He returned seriously. "But that doesn't change the fact that your plan was a bad one. You got lucky this time, but next time you might not be as fortunate. You can't just charge into a fight without a plan. That type of recklessness endangers both yourself and others."

She opened her mouth again, looking as if she might try and retort before snapping it shut once more and slumping in her chair with a dejected look.

Miya sighed softly, accepting the criticism that it looked like she knew to be true.

"It _was_ pretty stupid, wasn't it?" She finally admitted as she sunk further into the chair. "If we're being honest, I think I'd already accepted the fact that I'd probably die. The whole scenario seemed hopeless. You're right though, I didn't think it through. I was terrified and acted on instinct."

His chest tightened at her admittance of fear.

It was normal to fear, of course, he was well aware. It was a natural bodily instinct. But he also knew that his students must have felt this fear as well as the doctor, in a space where they were supposed to have been safe. That trust had been broken, and the school had failed to keep them out of harm's way.

They were incredibly lucky that they had gotten off as easily as they had. If All Might hadn't shown up… He didn't want to think about it.

"And I was scared for you." Continued the doctor. "The students made it out okay, no injuries that Recovery Girl couldn't handle, but yours were very serious. Your class has been calling nonstop, they're worried too."

"How extensive were the injuries?" He asked, head sliding to the left to look at her completely.

She eyed him for a minute, before leaning towards his bed and grabbing a medical chart off the side.

"Brace yourself." She warned, and he crossed his arms over his chest as she began to read from it.

"Aizawa, Shouta. Male. 30. Three fractures of the left leg, two fractures and one full break in the right arm, compound fracture of the left wrist and left elbow, multiple breaks and hairline fractures of skull and facial bones, two brain bleeds detected by MRI, one broken rib resulting in a pierced lung, one laceration of the scalp, and one laceration under the right eye." She paused to take a breath before adding another fact. "And that was when you got here. I regenerated your elbow and the damage to your vision in the ambulance ride."

Aizawa was silent as the facts sank in. She continued, giving details on just how many hours he had spent in an OR with her digging around inside his body when her quirk had finally been exhausted. A combination of her quirk and modern medicine was what had saved his life.

He had known it was bad, of course, but hearing it repeated aloud to him only increased the severity of the events.

When it was happening, when his body was being broken and his head crushed beneath the hands of that horrid creature, he had not been focusing on himself.

He had been focused instead on a desperate attempt to use his quirk to incapacitate the monster, a horrible realization that he would not be able to continue to fight and protect his students against the evils that had found them there, and the last horrifying image of that overconfident villain reaching towards the face of a woman he was supposed to have been in charge of protecting along with his students.

He had been so focused on the others that he had nearly forgotten about the wrongs that had befallen his own body.

But his students were okay and the doctor was still alive. Now all he needed to do was return to his class on Monday and assure them that he was capable of their trust. Hopefully, his continued presence in the classroom would allow them to feel at ease once more.

"Thank you." He spoke quietly when he realized just how much time and effort it would have taken her to piece him together again. If not for her help, he likely might have lost his life. "You've worked hard."

"It's my job to patch people up." She replied with an air of feigned nonchalance, though he could tell that his apology had surprised her. "We'll just focus on getting you up to speed for now. I'd like to keep you here another few days for observation and extra healing sessions."

Extra days at the hospital? He couldn't have that. His place was with his students, they would need him now more than ever. He would be there, even if he had to crawl there.

"I want to return to work on Monday." He informed her seriously, and her reaction was instantaneous.

"No." She replied firmly, looking to him as if he had lost his mind. "Absolutely not."

"Let me rephrase that:" He offered with an edge to his tone this time. "I _will_ be returning to work on Monday."

"Let me reiterate:" She returned in a snap and with eyes full of fire. "_No_."

"I don't think you've fully understood me - I'm going back to work on Monday."

"And perhaps you have some damage to your brain that the scans didn't pick up - my answer is no. Or do I need to spell that out for you?"

His eye twitched in annoyance at the cocky attitude she was now displaying, her tone taunting and daring him to argue back.

Aizawa Shouta was not a man well known for his patience, or lack thereof, and this woman just kept pushing him to the edge as if it were some sort of game.

"You can't keep me hostage here." He grit out, voice like gravel as he challenged her.

Her lips set themselves in a thin line as she rose to the bait.

"Actually," She started, tone taking a certain frosty edge to it when she refuted his claims haughtily. "As your current acting physician, _I can_. Try anything and I'll have security restrain you to your bed."

She smiled sweetly to him, the threat clear underneath a perfectly charming expression that she was putting on for show.

A viper, that was what she was. A viper who hid behind a pretty face and fake expressions. There was nothing remotely sweet about this woman, of that he was now certain.

He took a deep breath, willing himself not to let her get under his skin. He hadn't known Tanaka Miya very long, just two month or so now, but he already knew she had a certain knack for pushing his buttons.

Not many people dared to push him the way she did, and even fewer people he let get away with it, as he was now doing, though he couldn't fathom why. The only other person he allowed to banter with him like that was Hizashi, and it was only because they had known each other for years.

Shouta took a moment to remind himself that this woman was the reason he was breathing before he responded, forcing a calmer voice through his lips.

"Would it truly bring irreversible harm to my body if I were to return on Monday? It would also allow you to return to work as well, and you would still be able to watch over my health there if you're so concerned over it." He tried, appealing to both logic and a hope for a compromise.

She scoffed at him, and he knew then that his attempt was in vain.

"Nice try, but no." She replied with a narrowed gaze. "You're still recovering. I don't believe it would cause any irreversible damage, but I'd prefer to err on the side of caution. My answer is no."

"I can recover at UA." He shot back stubbornly, now that she had admitted he would likely be okay to be discharged. "Both you and Recovery Girl will be close by, and I don't plan on pushing myself beyond my limits. I need to maintain a presence in the classroom for the students' sake. They need me there, especially after all that's happened."

Her face fell somewhat at his last statement, and a keen sense of understanding seemed to dawn upon her features. When she spoke again, it was without the defensive bite in her tone that she had previously sported

"You want to be there for your class, to assure them that everything is okay." She surmised softly as she leaned back into her chair. "You're worried about them."

He said nothing to her claim, neither confirming nor denying it.

He had responsibilities as an instructor to uphold, and if he had to take time to heal, he would rather do it in the company of his class. It was irresponsible to cause them more worry than necessary. They had been through something traumatic, and it was his responsibility to maintain his presence there as they coped with that.

They were going to be heroes one day, but as of now they were still children, just teenagers who had gone through something they shouldn't have had to face so early in their training.

Miya sighed, her previous attitude now dissolved.

"How am I supposed to say no to that?" She grumbled, before bringing the rice ball on her plate up to her lips and taking a large bite, chewing unhappily when she realized she didn't have the heart to keep him from his class.

Aizawa waited, watching as she took a few more bites in silence. His own food remained untouched. He found he didn't quite have the appetite.

"Fine." She finally stated after a few minutes of silence between them. "But I have conditions."

He nodded, relieved that she had come to understand his logic without him needing to explain it to her. She may have been one hell of an infuriating and somewhat oblivious woman, but he couldn't deny she was a smart one.

She often understood the meaning behind his harsh words and evasive phrases without him needing to say much. It was both unnerving and comforting to an extent, to be understood.

"You will stay at the recovery ward at UA for the remainder of the weekend. Have somebody you trust bring clothes and items from your home." He nodded again, expressing his consent as she went on. "You will not, under _any_ circumstances, perform strenuous bodily exercise without my approval. I also advise against using your quirk for two to three days."

"Reasonable." He returned. He was willing to abide by those rules, they were logical.

"And you will come by twice a day when school is in session to see me for regeneration sessions until your body has completely recovered."

"Is there anything else?" He questioned, glancing at her when she laughed softly to herself.

"Yeah." She affirmed with a soft laugh. "Once you're healed I want you to teach me how to throw a decent punch."

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Her hand faltered at the doorknob, keys frozen in her fingers.

She had no idea what she was about to walk in to.

Tanaka Junichi had been silent when she called him earlier from the hospital to let him know that she was alright, and that she would not be home that night. He had said nothing, though she could hear his labored breathing on the other side of the line that indicated he might be close to tears before the line went dead.

Miya had scared him, and felt guilty for waiting a day before calling to let him know she was alive. He was bound to have heard of the attack on the USJ, and had probably been scared to death when she never came home that evening or returned any of his calls.

But it couldn't be helped, she had been in and out of surgery and healing sessions with both 13 and Aizawa, there had been little time to dawdle on her phone. She had only checked her smartphone once assured that both of her patients were stable, and that had taken quite a while.

Even now she couldn't stay long. Aizawa had promised that he would head towards the recovery ward, and she wanted to monitor him until Monday and use her quirk to help speed his recovery. She also needed to check in on Midoriya, who was being kept in the ward as well.

And, as if she hadn't been worked to the bone already, Nezu had requested that she complete all the medical paperwork for him by Monday morning. That meant she would have to document, record, and analyze every single cut or scrape that each student had gotten during the incident and format it all into reports. She had a feeling the Musutafu Police Chief was probably breathing down his neck about it, they had their own filing to do after all.

It was common that Miya had needed to write reports like that for the police when she had worked at the hospital, especially in cases of violence or assault so that a case could be made for the victim. She was no stranger to these reports, and she knew that it was going to take her a long time to make one for each student and staff member that had been involved and treated for injuries afterwards, herself included.

Time was of the essence, and she still had work to do. She could not stay.

Miya was only stopping to grab some toiletries and clothes before she left again for UA, though she doubted her grandfather was going to be fine and dandy with that, especially after the recent villain attack.

The young doctor took a breath before inserting the key into the door and slowly slipped inside.

She called a soft 'tadaima' as she removed her shoes at the front entrance, passing by the small shrine to her father and grandmother that was situated near the door as she peered into the apartment.

There was no answer in return. She stepped quietly into the apartment in search for Junichi, whom she eventually found asleep on top of his futon inside his room and snoring softly. Miya slipped quietly into his room, debating whether or not she ought to wake him.

It was then, as she debated within herself, that she caught sight of a small object clutched tightly in his grasp as he snored softly. The young doctor knelt at his side, leaning over his sleeping form to get a better look at the object.

In his hands he held a photograph of the two of them together, one that had been taken during the Tanabata ceremony at their local shrine many years ago. Her mother, grandmother, and father were in the photograph as well. In the picture they all smiled happily, dressed in traditional garb and holding on to the wishes that they had written out. Miya was only a baby, hardly even a year old from the looks of it.

Yet another picture he had kept hidden from her. She frowned unhappily at the sight of it.

She glanced towards her grandfather's face. His eyes were red and puffy, it was obvious he'd been crying. Miya felt the guilt clawing at her heart like it was being shredded apart.

But she still had to leave.

She could wake him…but he was sleeping so peacefully, and she really didn't have the time for another argument he was sure to bring up after all of this. She had to return quickly to UA, there were people there who still needed her help.

It was likely that her grandfather would beg her to stay, and she was tired, so very tired already. The young doctor was running on fumes and just a scant few hours of sleep, she wasn't sure she could handle such a conversation.

Miya decided against waking him. She didn't have the strength to.

She sighed softly and maneuvered quietly around him, choosing the more cowardly of the two options and placing a blanket over his form. Moving to his writing desk, she picked up a pad of paper there, pulled a pen out of her doctor's coat, and left a small and detailed note for him on top of the antique wooden surface before standing again.

Miya glanced around his room, wondering if she ought to prepare anything else for him before she left while her eyes traveled around the parameters. Her gaze landed on a small box next to his futon, one that she had never seen before. She looked between the picture in his hand and the contents of the box curiously.

Perhaps that was where he was keeping all these pictures he was hoarding. She wondered how many more there were. Her curiosity spiked, and her gaze would not seem to leave the box.

_I really shouldn't…it's a betrayal of trust, those are probably some of his private possessions…_

_But perhaps a peek wouldn't hurt anyone? What if he has more pictures of Laleh?_

That last thought was what made up her mind.

Despite the feeling that she really ought not to be looking through his things, curiosity overpowered her mind. She knelt down softly, peering into the box before reaching inside to grab the first thing her fingers touched. Squinting in the dimly lit room, she brought it up to her face.

It was a letter, an unopened letter.

She turned it around after noting that the seal on the letter had yet to be broken, though the white paper had begun to turn yellow around the edges, signifying it was at least a few years old.

Miya felt her eyes widen when she was able to make out the sloppy looking kanji on the opposite side, the symbols spelling out the name of the person the letter was addressed to.

'_Mahnaz Tanaka'_

Her gaze narrowed at the second name she did not recognize. Mahnaz? She wasn't familiar with it, but the family name matched her own, and the address was the same.

Letting her eyes graze the paper as they traveled upwards to the return address, her gaze narrowed further when she couldn't read the script there.

It was in Farsi, the language spoken in Iran that was conveyed through traditional Arabic lettering – she recognized it from the books she had recently purchased on Persian poetry after learning of her heritage. And Miya couldn't read it, she was only somewhat acquainted with the cursive lettering that flowed gracefully over the yellowing paper. There was no way for her to know who had sent it.

She brought the letter down from her gaze, looking back into the box. Her eyes widened, and she brought her free hand up to her mouth to stifle a gasp of absolute shock.

It was full of letters, stuffed to the brim with postcards, letters, and old photographs of her parents and her. All of the letters displayed that flowing script which indicated they must also be in Farsi.

Her mind was reeling as she took in all of it, her grip tightening on the letter in her hand as she pondered on what any of it meant for her. Who had sent these? Who was Mahnaz? Why was her grandfather keeping somebody else's letters?

Suddenly, her grandfather stirred.

Miya stood hastily, shoving the single letter into the pocket of her doctor's coat and taking a few steps back as she held her breath in anticipation and waited, her feet rooted to the spot.

Her grandfather only mumbled something incoherent in his sleep before shifting and resuming his snoring. Miya sighed softly in relief and made her escape before he had the chance to wake and find her snooping through his things.

The letter felt heavy in her pocket as she gathered an overnight bag and locked the apartment back up, walking quickly to the train station.

After taking her seat on a train that was mostly uncrowded so late at night, she pulled the letter back out and fingered it delicately as she studied it for a minute or so. She eyed the strange-looking script warily; she had only learned their alphabet and a few phrases for casual travelling so far from the books she had bought, but it was not enough to even dream of decoding the message written in beautiful calligraphy upon yellowing paper.

She studied the envelope a few minutes longer before making the decision to open it.

Mind made up, she ran her finger underneath the seal to open the envelope. She was careful as she pulled out and unfolded a single sheet of thick paper and appraised the contents. Her heart sank when she confirmed what she had already begun to suspect from the evidence of the sloppy kanji on the envelope: the writer of the letter was not literate in the Japanese writing system.

It was all in Farsi, every single bit of it.

Miya frowned as she traced her fingers over the script, wishing desperately for a way to somehow translate it instantaneously. Her scowl deepened and she carefully refolded the letter before putting it back inside her pocket.

She would have to worry about it at a later date.

It was neither the time or place to address what this letter, along with an entire box of letters that her grandfather had apparently been keeping from her, might mean for her. There were too many unknowns, and she would have to be patient until she managed to find a way to decode the letter. Her chest tightened when she came to the conclusion that she could not trust her grandfather to tell her the truth if she confronted him.

Her leg bounced up and down in an anxious and angry response as she thought about it, her eyes glued to the floor of the brightly lit train car.

He had kept this from her. He had lied. It looked as though there were many years' worth of letters that had been sent from another country to somebody named Mahnaz, and her grandfather had hidden all of them from her while telling her she had no relatives other than him.

And just who was writing these letters? What did the name 'Mahnaz' have to do with any of it? What else was her grandfather hiding from her?

The questions were overwhelming, and she had no answers for any of them.

She shook her head then, attempting to push those thoughts to the side for now.

Her first step needed to be seeing to her patients before she let herself get caught up in the thoughts within her mind that were beginning to spiral. She couldn't afford to slow down now, her work was still far from over.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N - Hey guys! Sorry for the late update. We've just started fasting for Ramadan and I wanted to get this out now. I probably won't be updating for the rest of the month of Ramadan, just so I can focus on the religious aspects and fasting. Thanks for the understanding and much love :)**

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* * *

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Her fingers clicked aggressively upon the keyboard of her laptop, and she let out another sigh of frustration when she was met with another dead end in her internet search.

The time on her laptop read 02:52. It was Sunday night, and school would start anew in just a few hours, yet sleep evaded her.

Her mind was abuzz, there was too much to think about and she could not quiet her heart. There were too many questions that needed answers, too many clinical notes to catch up on, and too many leftover emotions from the attack at the USJ that she was purposefully choosing not to address yet.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Shigaraki's hand reaching for her face. In the moment, when she had stared death in the face and hoped desperately that Aizawa's last minute plan would work, she had not felt fear – just a sense of desperation and hope.

But she felt that fear now, and she couldn't help but think it strange that the response had been so delayed. She supposed it was because she had been so busy over the last few days that she hadn't really had the time to acknowledge her own thoughts and feelings about what had taken place.

Miya shifted on top of one of the comfortable beds of the recovery ward, feeling disturbed at the memories of the USJ and emotions welling up in her chest that accompanied her thoughts about the event.

The recovery ward had been her home for the last two days as she looked after Aizawa, Midoriya, and a man named Toshinori Yagi.

It had come as quit the surprise to find that the strange looking skeleton of a man was All Might in reality. She had floundered – the image she'd had in her mind of the number one hero was a stark opposite of the man who had stood in front of her claiming to be the same person.

Recovery Girl had insisted that she know of his true identity and condition so that she could provide better medical care with that understanding. Since she was to inherit Recovery Girl's position at the end of the school year, there were certain things that Miya would need to know, and this secret was one of them.

It hadn't taken her very long at all to put two and two together once his identity and medical condition was revealed. It still shook her to think about it, but it certainly explained a lot in regards to the man's green-haired protégé. All Might's power was fading, his body growing weaker as Midoriya Izuku only grew stronger with an astoundingly similar ability; the strange sensation she had felt from his body's hold on his quirk during the first day of school now made sense. It had all clicked in her mind in an instant.

She had been sworn to secrecy when they realized she had figured it out. Yet another strange turn of events to add to the list she was keeping.

Life had taken to throwing her curveballs lately, and Miya was still slowly growing accustomed to the change in lifestyle. Her new job certainly never left her bored. Before signing on at UA, her life had been simple. She practiced medicine, conducted research, and helped her grandfather around the house.

Simple. Easy. Predictable.

…_Boring_.

The past three days had been anything but.

Thursday, she had survived an invasion of villains and looked death in the face. Friday had been spent in and out of surgery and pushing her quirk to the absolute limit in order to heal the two pro heroes. Saturday, she had transferred Aizawa here and discharged Midoriya after he had been deemed healthy enough to return home. Sunday had been spent in healing sessions with Aizawa and All Might, whom she was still growing accustomed to calling 'Yagi-san'.

Her life had been thrown into turmoil after the attack, but it was finally slowing down. She could finally stop and breath. And yet, after exhausting herself for days on end and running on very little sleep or energy, she was awake and unable to sleep.

Miya was situated in the public area of the recovery ward while Aizawa slept in one of the private rooms. In all honesty, she felt as though she ought to be sleeping as well, but she was unable to calm her mind despite how tired her body felt.

And so, she clicked away on her laptop instead, sitting cross legged on top of one of the beds in a set of pajamas she had brought with her from home. Her grandfather had called her earlier in the evening, but she had kept it brief.

She wasn't sure what to say to him, and she wasn't sure if she would be able to face him anytime soon, at least until she managed to decode this letter.

The letter sat unfolded at her side with another piece of scrap paper next to it as she attempted to transcribe the Farsi script into Romanized kanji, and then to Japanese. Miya had been working on it for hours now, and had made very little progress.

There weren't many online resources for the Farsi language that were documented in Japanese. She'd had better luck after switching to English to try the search again, for there were more resources in that language.

But now she was reading in English, translating English to Japanese, using the translated message to try and transcribe the Farsi script to English, then finally translating the English script back to Japanese. It was driving her insane.

Her English was just okay. She could read well enough and speak on a conversational level after studying it in medical school and taking a semester abroad in Australia, but it wasn't quite fluent to a point that made what she was trying to do in that moment any easier.

She groaned again in frustration once more, resisting the urge to chunk her laptop and the strange letter across the room as she seethed.

Burying her head in her hands, she inhaled sharply, counted to five, and exhaled slowly.

"You'll strain your eyes like that, you know." She jolted sharply at the voice of her mentor, thoroughly startled at seeing him standing at the entrance of the private room, lurking in the shadows.

She hadn't heard the sliding door that separated them open, but there he was, standing there and watching.

"What are you, some sort of ninja?" She frowned crossly as her heartbeat returned to a normal pace again, still feeling extremely frustrated from both the situation and lack of sleep. "You should be sleeping, school starts in five hours. You need your rest." She scolded lightly.

She watched him like a hawk as he hobbled out of his room to seat himself in a chair that was situated against the opposite wall her bed was. He was dressed in a well-worn long sleeve shirt and a pair of baggy sweatpants. Hizashi had taken it upon himself to bring him his clothing from home, and Miya was not surprised to see that this was the sort of thing he would wear outside of his hero garb.

"I could say the same to you." He returned as he met her gaze defiantly, neither of them backing down.

After a few moments of prolonged stubbornness, Miya relented first.

"I can't sleep. There's too much going on in my mind right now." She admitted, breaking their gaze and looking towards a window. She didn't like the intensity of which was held in his gaze.

He was quite for a moment, seeming to consider her response. The man was blunt when he responded some moments later.

"You're allowed to slow down and process after what happened." He relayed, and Miya immediately regretted saying anything at all. She didn't want him to think she was incapable of handling herself. "It's natural if you're scared, it was your first time in front of a villain. I probably should have talked to you about this earlier."

"I don't need a therapist." Miya snapped in frustration, before backtracking immediately when she realized she had taken a harsher tone than necessary. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that… I'm feeling a little stressed is all."

He didn't press the subject again, and for that Miya was thankful. Silence stretched between them for a while before Miya spoke again.

"What's got you up? Are you in any pain?" She asked quietly, still feeling guilty for snapping at him.

"I'm fine." He grunted at her, though she could tell that was not completely true. It was probably the pain keeping him up. "I'm used to regular patrols at night."

"Is that why you're always sleeping throughout the day?" Miya asked in astonishment. "Because you work through the night too?"

"Not every night. But yes, I try to sleep when I can." Replied the man who looked strangely more alert and awake than she had ever seen him before.

It looked as though he was a night person.

He was chattier than she had ever seen him before, eyes opened wider than their usual droopy or exhausted position, and was using a voice that was a bit less gravelly than what it sounded like during the daytime. She had come to the conclusion that perhaps the man was just chronically tired or mentally worn down, but it was now clear she was wrong.

Aizawa Shouta came alive at night. Or at least, more alive than he was during the day, which was essentially one step above a zombie state unless there was an emergency or a valid reason for him to exert himself beyond what was necessary.

"No wonder you're so tired all the time." She stated aloud in awe before glancing back down to the letter at her side.

"You should try to sleep if what you're working on isn't an emergency, Tanaka-san." Came his advice after following her gaze to the letter. "I'm sure Nezu and Recovery Girl will understand if your reports are late."

She glanced down at the letter again, realizing what he had come to the conclusion of. She had been working on the reports and clinical notes for the majority of the evening, documenting every single scrape that class 1-A or the staff had received. Nezu had stressed the importance of her finishing it as soon as possible so that they could give it to the police for their documentation.

It had taken hours upon hours to finally finish it all, and she wasn't surprised that he thought she was still at it.

"This isn't a clinical note." Replied the exhausted doctor softly, debating within herself if she ought to tell him what she was working on.

They had only known each other a little over two months and maintained a mostly professional relationship, and it might be awkward to discuss family matters with a co-worker.

But Miya had nobody else to speak to about this, or at least, not anybody she knew well enough to guard the information of her personal life with. Aizawa Shouta wasn't the kind to gossip. And he was in a better mood than he usually was…

She met his gaze uncertainly. He said nothing, but his eyes prompted her to speak.

"It's – it's a letter, addressed to me." She started, sounding unsure of herself and speaking with a voice that portrayed just how vulnerable she felt in that moment. "I think it might be from my mother's side of the family, but I can't read Farsi well. It's really important I figure it out, but I'm having trouble translating it."

She kept it at that, deciding not to go into too much detail. She didn't want to trouble him with the strain in the relationship between her and her grandfather at the moment, or the fact that she thought Junichi was hiding something big from her.

They were only doubts, anyway. She wouldn't know for sure until she was able to figure out the contents of the letter, and then she would need to find the rest of the letters as well before she confronted anybody about anything.

She needed to be sure, and right now she wasn't sure of anything at all.

"Farsi?" He intoned, looking at her for more explanation. She backtracked again to explain.

"My mother was from Iran." Aizawa nodded once as his gaze fell upon the odd-looking script of the letter. "It must be from her family. I think it's something important and I can't stop worrying about it."

"Ask Hizashi tomorrow then." He offered his simple solution blandly. "He has a degree in linguistics from Tokyo University, he might be able to connect you to somebody who could help."

"Really?" Replied Miya in wonder, face lighting up immediately. If she had known the solution was that simple she would have been able to rest easier. Suddenly, her chest felt lighter. "I had no idea. Thank you so much, I'll do that. I really appreciate it, Aizawa-san!"

"Go to sleep." Replied the hero with a groan of effort and a pained grimace as he stood once more to begin hobbling back towards his own bed. "The light from your laptop is annoying and all those angry noises were a pain to listen to."

Miya rolled her eyes towards the heavens at his blunt nature as he passed her.

"Sure, sure." She replied, sarcasm dripping heavily from her tongue.

The rolling door shut firmly behind him and Miya bit her cheeks so he wouldn't hear her soft giggles.

The man didn't take gratitude well for whatever reason, and that amused her. He covered his responses well, but whenever she pointed out to him that he had gone out of his way to do something for her or his class he immediately closed up, almost as if he were flustered.

He wouldn't admit it out loud, but she had a sinking suspicion that she and his class were slowly growing on him, no matter how he denied it. She could see a subtle flash of pride in his eyes whenever his students were brought up or when she succeeded at something in their training, but that emotion in his eyes was so small and brief that it was extremely hard to pinpoint at times. But it was there, and try as he might to pretend he was so hardened and didn't care, she knew it was just an act.

An interesting man indeed.

It was clear he didn't like being in the spotlight or having a fuss made over him. He didn't like his actions praised and had no tolerance for such gratitude.

Now that she thought about it, that was probably why he preferred to work as an underground hero, one who worked under the cover of the dark and took no credit for the heroic tasks performed.

Miya gave one last forlorn sigh for good measure before she closed her laptop and leaned back on the bed.

Her body felt more relaxed after their brief talk, and now that she had a plan of action for the letter, she felt a little more at ease – but only a little. Her mind still felt heavy. The young doctor lay there for some time, listening to the ticking hands of the clock on the wall as she fought the clutches of sleep.

When she closed her eyes and eventually drifted off to a restless sleep, all she could see was Shigaraki's hand enclosing over her face, the horrible image replaying itself over and over again. Her dreams were filled with horrible scenarios of what could have happened, the fears she had suppressed for the last few days was finally coming out to play.

In her dreams she activated her quirk too late, and Shigaraki reduced her body to dust.

The students were hurt by villains.

Aizawa was crushed to death by the Nomu.

All Might became a martyr.

The League of Villains won, spreading fear throughout their world as their society crumbled.

Her nightmares were vivid, a not-so-subtle reminder of what very well could have happened. She tossed and turned in the hospital bed, all the while clutching tightly to a letter from a foreign land.

.

* * *

.

A soft ping from her cellphone was what roused her from a restless sleep.

Miya groaned, rolling over rubbing at her eyes. Her head throbbed and the light from the flourescant overhead lighting made her cringe and want to burrow back under the covers, but she sat up anyways.

She noted vaguely that her laptop and the letter had been moved to the table at the side of the bed. Grabbing her phone and blinking rapidly to focus her vision, she noted the time on the screen unhappily.

It was well into the afternoon.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Dr. Tanaka!" Chuckled Recovery Girl as she stepped into the room.

Was she alive? She felt more like a zombie than a human being. She wondered if this was what Aizawa felt like the majority of the time. Suddenly, the idea of toting around a sleeping bag seemed a bit more inticing.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sleep so long. You should have woken me so I could have helped you." Miya answered guiltily as she pulled her hair over one shoulder and covered her mouth when a yawn crept up her throat.

"Eraser informed me how little you rested over the weekend, so I thought it best to let you sleep. You needed it, you're looking much better now." Recovery Girl tutted as she approached and held her hands behind her back. "You did well, but you must remember to take care of your own health if you aim to take care of others as well."

Miya lowered her head, for the elder woman was right. She had pushed herself to her limit and refused to take breaks even when the opportunity was there. Taking breaks meant slowing down, and slowing down meant dealing with reality and addressing the emotions she had been suppressing.

It was childish, but she had known that if she slept, the nightmares would come as the events replayed themselves in her head. She had been avoiding addressing the subtle way that terror would take hold of her heart when she slowed down long enough to remember the vision of a hand closing in on her face.

It was reckless, and she was aware of that.

"Yes ma'am." She mumbled.

"Good, now eat something." The hero instructed strictly. "I'm giving you the rest of the afternoon off until your training with Eraser, make sure to rest well and restore your energy."

"I will." Miya acknowledged, and seemingly pleased with her answer, Recovery Girl spun back towards her office.

The young doctor took the advice to heart.

She made her way first to the faculty locker rooms, where she took a long shower, brushed her teeth, and braided her damp hair before dressing herself in an extra pair of scrubs she kept in her personal locker.

Stepping out of the facilities feeling refreshed and re-invigorated, she made her way to a mostly empty cafeteria and scarfed down a meal with gusto. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until she had a large bowl of warm udon sitting in front of her, which she all but inhaled.

She checked her phone again as she returned her dishes to the cafeteria kitchen and thanked the staff for the meal. There was still about thirty minutes before her after school training started, and she knew exactly what she needed to do.

Her feet carried her with purpose down the halls and towards the staff room. If she remembered his schedule correctly, the man she was seeking out would be on his off period.

Miya slipped into the staff lounge, noting a few other teachers in their cubicles working quietly or talking amongst themselves. She spotted the loud and eccentric man immediately, seated next to busy Aizawa who looked as though he was most likely grading papers and ignoring what his friend was saying to him.

"Present Mic?" She asked as she approached, and he spun in his chair with a large grin on his face at the sound of her voice.

"Yo, doc! What brings you to the teachers' lounge? How goes it?" He asked, making a couple full circle spins in his chair before stopping again and pulling a chair out for her as well. "Just Mic is fine, and then my name after school is out!"

She smiled gratefully and sat, lowering her voice in hopes that he might take the hint and lower his as well.

"I actually came to ask a favor…" She trailed off hesitantly, but he only grinned again and motioned at her to continue. "Aizawa-san said you studied linguistics in university, I was wondering if you could help me find a resource to have something translated. I'd be very grateful."

She fished around in her pocket before pulling the letter out and extending her hand.

"You've come to the right man, doc!" He relayed excitedly, grabbing the letter and unfolding it and gasping dramatically in delight. "How interesting! Is it Arabic? Urdu? Pashto?"

"Farsi, I think. It's important I find out what it says. Do you know of anybody who could help?" She asked hopefully, feeling relieved when he nodded vigorously.

"Don't worry, little missie, I got you covered." He spoke confidently as he pulled out his phone and snapped a few pictures of the front and back of the letter before handing it back to her. "I'm still close with an old college roommate who was majoring in Middle Eastern languages, he'll get this translated for you!"

Miya's heart soared at his answer.

"Thank you so much! You're the best!" She exhaled in relief, stuffing the envelope back into her pocket with a grin.

"And don't you forget it!" He pointed a finger in her face amiably, to which she laughed in response. "I thought you might be a _hafu_ with such exotic features. See, Eraser? I told you!"

"A…what?"

She wasn't completely sure what a hafu was. She had heard it here and there in passing, but wasn't too well versed in slang.

"A hafu!" He reiterated, as if it were obvious.

She only blinked at him in response.

"It's a play on the English word 'half'." Aizawa droned, sounding annoyed at having his peace disturbed. "Now would you both quiet down? Some of us have work to do."

Miya clamped her mouth shut. It sounded like he hadn't had a nap yet, she could tell by the tone of voice that indicated he was grumpy.

Hizashi, unfazed by his friend's rising temper, continued anways.

"It used to be a slur a long time ago, but it's now just part of regular vocabulary since everything's so globalized. Also, what's your skin care routine? Is that just good genetics or do you use something special, you gotta tell me!" Hizashi continued loudly, causing Aizawa's eye to twitch, a tell-tale sign of blatant irritation.

She had a feeling Hizashi was only doing it to push his old friend's buttons, but Miya didn't want to be around when he finally snapped. Miya occasionally joined in or teased the man every now and then, but she was good enough at reading people to know when too much was too much.

"I'll – uh - I'll tell you later." She whispered back, not wanting to push the man next to him any further.

She started for the door again, but had only taken a few steps when a gravelly voice called out to her, giving her pause to stop and turn.

"Dr. Tanaka." He called, and she looked back to meet his eyes. "Your training will take place in the gym today. I'll be overseeing it from the sidelines. Make sure not to eat anything before."

Miya raised an eyebrow at the odd request, but nodded anyways before resuming her original course.

She pondered upon his words later as she shed her clothes inside the locker room to change into the track suit, lamenting the fact she couldn't take a snack break before heading to the gym. She was already hungry again.

She had used her quirk so extensively over the weekend following the attack at the USJ that it had left her with depleted energy reserves. As the result of her overworking her quirk and expending too much of her energy, her body had begun to take from its natural fat reserves, and Miya didn't have a lot in that department in the first place, which made it dangerous to resort to.

If she exhausted herself too much but still used her quirk, her body would convert fat and muscle into energy for her to use, and she had been dangerously close to that point recently. She glanced at herself in the mirror as she zipped up the front of the top and began working on braiding her hair out of her face.

Her cheekbones looked a bit more pronounced than normal, the angles of her face sharper. Dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep over the last few days made her look somewhat sickly. If her skin had been as pale as a normal Japanese skin tone, she might have looked like a ghost. As of now, she was thanking her lucky stars for the rich honey colored complexion that allowed her skin to glow despite the circumstance.

But the damage was there, she had used too much energy, and was a bit too thin than what was recommended for her height and weight. She would need to up her diet and make sure she was getting proper nutrients in the upcoming days in order to make sure her body returned to a healthier weight.

She would need to be careful in the future. Miya had pushed herself to the limit in desperation to survive and to save the lives of others without giving a care for the repercussions it might have on her body. That, combined with her own poor judgement regarding her decision not to rest when she should have, had left her in the state she was now in. It was her own fault, and she would need to do better to recognize her limits in the future. She would need to be smarter and remember to address her emotions and fears in a healthier manor.

Her stomach grumbled at her, and she frowned unhappily when she remembered she wasn't allowed to eat yet.

She made her way down to the gym as she thought ahead to what she might make for her and her grandfather this evening.

_I'll bet he asked me not to eat because I'll be running again today and he's tired of seeing me puke. Which is fair, I guess. I'm kind of tired of seeing me puke too._

"Aizawa-san!" She called upon entering the gymnasium and seeing him lounging lazily against the wall. "Look, I'm five minutes early."

"Color me impressed." He retorted dryly to her peppy attitude.

"Should I go ahead and do a few warm up laps?" She lamented as she glanced towards the indoor gymnasium. "I hate running." She grumbled under her breath.

She certainly preferred the outdoor track if she was going to run until she collapsed. At least that option came with a view as she was being tortured.

"You won't be running today." He said, eyeing her lazily from his position against the wall of the gym. "We're starting on combat training."

Miya felt her brows knitting together in confusion.

"Is this a joke?" She asked seriously, the grin slipping off her face and tone ripe with disapproval. "You're still limping around campus. I can't approve you for that type of exercise yet, you'd just re-injure yourself."

The young doctor faltered when a large grin split across his face.

The sight was unnatural, and it looked out of place. It was not a happy smile, nor one of approval, but instead one that bordered upon sadistic.

"I never said I would be your opponent." His Cheshire Cat grin spread even further. "Think fast."

Miya started nervously, taking a step back but bumping into something hard that had not been there seconds ago.

She'd hardly had time to register his movement before the person she had bumped into drove his fist into her gut.

She doubled over, all the air rushing from her body in an instant. Suddenly, she understood why he had asked her not to eat beforehand. Miya fell to the ground, bracing herself with her hands as she hacked and coughed, struggling for breath in the aftermath of the strong hit.

"On your feet, Dr. Tanaka." Came a rough voice from her attacker.

It took her a good few moments to stand firmly on her feet once more, and she looked desperately towards her mentor for help. Surely he wasn't going let this man pummel her into the ground? Because that's what was certainly going to happen if Aizawa did not intervene.

But intervene he did not, instead calling a small reminder to the pro hero who was bringing his fist back in preparation to launch another attack.

_Out of all the people he could have asked to help with combat training, it had to be this guy? _

"I'm not ready for this! I don't even know how to throw a proper punch!" She shrieked as she barely managed to dodge the pro hero's fist.

"Stop whining and fight!" Yelled Vlad King, already pivoting on his feet for another attack.

He was _fast._

Miya jumped to the side, rolling twice on the ground before picking herself back up and ducking under another fist.

"Aizawa-san, I take back what I said about running!" She called in desperation as she attempted to put distance between her and the hero who towered over her, to no avail. Vlad King was fast despite such a hulking body that might make one assume otherwise. "I love running! Please let me run instead!"

She yelped in surprise when the larger hero dipped into a low sweeping kick that knocked her legs out from underneath her. She wasn't down long, however. Miya stared up with wide eyes as his large hand closed around the front of her tracksuit and he lifted her up into the air with just one arm.

Her feet thrashed wildly in the air, attempting to find solid ground.

Miya flailed as he lifted her higher, heart sinking when she heard Aizawa's voice over the crashing of her own heart beating loudly in her ears.

"Remember, Vlad, no broken bones if you can help it."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hello all! Good news: I'm uploading this chapter and almost done with chapter 10! Bad news: My wrist is still healing from a bad injury, that's why updates have been so slow. I'm in brace now, so I can move it a little more easily, but the typing is still a big pain in the butt and has really slowed me down while the bones and tendons heal. Apologies in advance for delayed updates and thanks for being so patient!**

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"Get up." Came the angry voice of the man who had just kicked her straight in the stomach, sending the young doctor flying backwards and onto the ground. "Again." He commanded.

"Just a seco-" Miya attempted to wheeze at him as she collected her breath, but Vlad King would have none of it.

Strong hands grasped the front of her shirt to wrench her forcibly to her feet, only to bring his head crashing down on her nose in a vicious head-butt that sent her, once again, back to the ground in a heap. A pained groan escaped curled lips as she struggled to come to her senses, seeing stars while she tried to push herself back up and onto shaking legs.

"You think a villain is going to give you time to take a breather? Think again, Dr. Tanaka." The harsh kick to her ribs sent her body twisting backwards, and she was now laying on her stomach.

She spared a spite filled glance towards her mentor, who only continued lounging lazily on the bleachers with a juice box that he had stolen from her earlier. She would have no help from Aizawa. And that was_ her _juice box_._

She glared daggers as he continued to suck down the pulpy and nutritious mango drink that was rightfully hers. To no surprise, he remained unfazed. She ought not have been surprised.

He really hadn't been joking about starting combat training. Miya felt as though she were in some special military task force with how brutal this was.

It had been over two weeks of it already.

Because Aizawa himself could not step in as his body continued to heal and because the sports festival was rapidly approaching, he had enlisted the help of Vlad King, who showed absolutely no mercy at all. Miya would have begged on her knees to go back to running laps again if she thought it might do any good. But it wouldn't, and she knew it.

But deep down, buried underneath all the glares, spite, and self-righteous anger, she was grateful for it. The harder they worked the quicker she would advance, and she had a lot to catch up on if she wanted to be successful.

So, she would take it. Sure, she would throw a few glares around and grumble here and there, but she would endure. With every hit, kick, and punch, she improved. With every time she pulled herself back up to try again, her dream got just a tad bit closer to her outstretched grasp.

One day, she might even be working alongside Aizawa and Vlad…but that day was not today, far from it, in fact.

The underground hero did not intervene as Vlad King beat her into the ground each day, only calling out a few tips to her here and there and watching her form analytically from the sidelines. At the end of each session, he sat down on the ground next to her as she healed herself and gave a detailed analysis of her flaws, strengths, and ideas that she should try the next day.

Each day Miya showed up and warmed up with a few laps and some stretches. She was getting better at dodging and moving faster, but her opponent was even quicker than she, and it was a rare occasion she managed to hit him at all. He never went so far as to actually cause any damage that couldn't be healed by her hands, but the young doctor had many bruises and other injuries to heal after each session.

And she had thought running hurt? She could have laughed now.

And it helped, for the most part. It was hard to see at times, because Vlad King was ruthless. But it was all for the good of her training, or so she constantly repeated to herself within her mind.

Miya had only managed three measly blows on the hulking hero today out of what was almost two weeks of this training. This was their tenth and by far the most violent training session so far.

Before she even had a chance to greet Vlad upon arrival today, the large man had launched himself at her, pinning her to the ground and smashing the back of her head against the padded floor of the gymnasium when she had been vulnerable and unsuspecting. It was brutal, but effective. She was now extremely wary, keeping her guard up at every turn.

Yet another lesson she had learned the hard way: never let your guard down, even if you think you're safe – always be ready to respond. And she hadn't been ready, not at all.

And what was even more infuriating than the fact that she was not able to land many hits on him, was the fact that it was quite obvious that the man was still holding himself back. Even now, as he beat her mercilessly, she was not convinced he was anywhere close to giving it his all.

She huffed angrily as she crouched just above the ground and gave a guttural yell as she launched herself at him again, only to find herself flipped onto her back again. With another exasperated breath, Miya picked herself up once more and repeated the never-ending process of getting her rear handed to her.

Apparently, the way that Aizawa wanted her to learn the basics of self-defense involved having her beaten to death's door, showing absolutely no mercy until Miya either learned how to defend the blows and counterattack or was pummeled to a point of cruelty. She ought to have realized he might pull something like this, he didn't exactly have the best reputation for being an easy teacher, but she was still grossly unprepared for it.

'_You can heal yourself, can't you?'_, he had said when she had begged to fight anyone but Vlad. Aizawa had warmed up to her somewhat since seeing her in action after the attack at the USJ, but only somewhat. '_And that means more possibilities for accelerated training. You'll thank me for this later. Stop complaining_.'

And so, she bore through it. She hadn't said a word after that comment. She knew he had her best interests in mind, she knew he wasn't completely heartless and wouldn't put her through this hell unless he honestly believed it would benefit her.

And what was more, she wanted to improve. These training sessions were infuriating to her, a reminder of how weak her body was and how far she had to go until she was anywhere near ready for a provisional license. So, she wanted to keep fighting. She wanted to get good enough to punch that smug hero who she couldn't seem to land a hit on. And she wanted it to _hurt_.

Of course, she also wanted to be able to defend herself the next time she found herself in danger or needed to fight, but right now she just really wanted to hit Vlad King, and she wanted to hit him _hard_.

He was cocky, angry, and rude when they fought. It was often he would say horribly rude things or use colorful language to egg her on or distract her. And as much as Miya hated to admit that he had some sort of hold over her, it worked for him. She would get angry, and being angry meant less aware of surroundings. And when Vlad managed to upset her like that, Miya dropped her guard.

It was a lesson that Aizawa was having him beat into her – that letting your emotions cloud your judgement during a fight would lead to failure and a loss of composure. Villains would say anything to get under the skin of their opponents and catch them while they were compromised, and Miya needed to be ready for that. Villains fought dirty, that was something that she had seen first-hand at the USJ. That thought was enough to send shivers down her spine.

Her thoughts were broken by a roundhouse kick to the side of her ribs. When she fell onto her stomach for the second time in a row, she didn't move.

Miya wheezed and held a hand up in the air to signify she was out. She had felt one of her ribs crack with that one, and though she would be able to heal it in no time, it still came with pain.

She couldn't move after his last kick; her body had reached its limit and every inch of her being called for an end to a willing subjection to his fists. She groaned in frustration when she felt the heel of his boot dig into her back with force, her sounds smothering in the ground when he dug his heel in further and twisted it against the bone of her spine and ribs.

"Pathetic." He sneered from his position above the battered woman, most likely to entice her to get up and try again, but this time she really couldn't move, which he finally seemed to have picked up on.

She could only grunt angrily in response, no longer able to combat his blows.

"I suppose that's enough for today." He drawled as he removed his boot from her back to squat next to her, not having broken a sweat.

"Thank goodness…" Mumbled Miya as she carefully flipped her form over so that she was now laying on her back.

"You hanging in there?" He asked casually, as if he hadn't just been fighting with her or digging his shoe into her back. "I can take you to Recovery Girl if you need it."

Miya shook her head slowly.

"Broken rib, won't take long to heal." She gasped as the larger of the two heroes put his hand behind her shoulders to help her up into a sitting position.

Foregoing common decency and etiquette, she lifted her shirt up until it exposed part of her bra and the curves of her waist. Normally, she might have waited until she was alone to heal herself so that she could have privacy, but this was something she didn't want to waste time regenerating.

And besides, she had only brought the fabric up just under her breasts, so he wasn't seeing anything particularly vulgar, just her stomach and ribs. But he still cast his head in the other direction, a faint blush spreading over his cheeks.

"Warn me next time, would you?" Vlad grumbled as Aizawa approached and towered over the two of them, also respectfully averting his gaze as Miya's hands began to glow. She sighed in relief as the pain immediately began to ebb.

"How about you don't break my ribs next time if you don't want to see me heal them." She spat at him, to which he only huffed at.

"No broken bones, Vlad. Be more careful." The exhausted hero droned a reprimand as they waited patiently for Miya to finish the regeneration process.

It took only a few minutes, and Miya was thankful that it was just a cracked rib and not a broken one. With a sigh of contentment, she pulled her shirt back down and moved to sit up on her own. Vlad looked quite relieved to be able to let her go, and immediately stood and put a few paces of distance between them as soon as she was on her feet as well.

"If that's all for today then I'll get going." The larger of the three stated, low voice rumbling as he glanced towards the digital clock on the wall of the gymnasium and turned to start towards the exit. Throwing a hand in the air as he retreated, he offered a casual wave. "Sorry about the ribs, Dr. Tanaka. Make sure you're defending your sides tomorrow."

Miya's shoulders slumped as she watched him go, still breathing heavily from exertion. The mountain of a man had hardly broken a sweat, and here she was with cracked ribs, a form littered in colorful bruises, and sweating like a pig. It wasn't fair.

"He's right." Began Aizawa, falling into step with her as they both began the trek back towards the main grounds. "You weren't covering your left side; your reaction times are slower on your left."

"Trust me, I understand." She breathed, subconsciously rubbing at the area that Vlad had damaged with that powerful kick of his. "I'll get faster, or at least better at blocking blows. I'm going to make that man eat his words."

Miya was grumbling now, which was something uncommon for her...most of the time. She recognized that it was childish to hold a grudge against Vlad, he was only playing the role of the villain in their training, but his words stung nonetheless.

Today he had made a comment about her parents, which had stopped her in her tracks. She had responded in anger, just as he had hoped, and Miya had found herself on the floor once again when she let her emotions get the best of her and gave Vlad an opening to attack.

She knew he didn't actually believe any of the foul things he said during their training, but she just couldn't help it. He insulted her parents, insulted her skin tone and heritage, and had made her feel like trash. It was all part of the training to make sure that she learned how to control her emotions in a fight, but that didn't mean she enjoyed it.

"It comes with practice." The man returned solemnly, shoving his hands into his pockets as they continued at a leisurely pace. "Don't get cocky, learn to control yourself first. This type of thing doesn't happen overnight."

The doctor opened her mouth to reply, but quickly snapped it shut when she felt her resolve slipping from her. She wasn't sure she would have had the energy to retort anyways. And what was more, she had no right to sling a refute; he was right, she had to learn to get a better grip on her emotions.

Heaving a hefty sigh, she resolved to change the topic instead.

"The sports festival is just two days away," She started, feeling like an idiot for stating something so obvious before tacking a question to the end of her statement. "Do you feel like your class is ready?"

Miya glanced at him, noting a brief flash of sentiment in otherwise hardened eyes.

There it was – the pride she knew he felt for his class. It was brief, hardly even noticeable, but it was there.

"They'll do fine." He stated, completely assured of his claim. "They've gone up against villains already, they're prepared to win. They know not to hold back if they want to get to the top."

Miya nodded in agreement. While she couldn't necessarily say that she was glad that the attack on the USJ had occurred, it certainly gave class 1-A an edge in the competition. Going up against classmates after battling villains in a life-or-death scenario would certainly be an easier task in comparison.

"That's true." She acknowledged before continuing. "And you'll get to watch it all from the teacher's box! I'm a bit jealous, actually; those are the best seats. Recovery Girl and I only get to watch from the screen in the infirmary."

"I'll be in the MC box." He stated reluctantly, voice carrying a sour note to it. Miya paused, glancing at him incredulously as he continued. "Hizashi roped me in to providing commentary."

She bit her lip when the image of him commentating dryly to the spectators of the sport's festival came to mind. She couldn't imagine anyone more unsuited for that role than him. He didn't exactly fit the definition of 'peppy', and that spunk was what got the masses excited.

"You? Commentating?" She took a breath, biting her cheeks to keep from laughing. She didn't want to be rude, but it was just too funny, she couldn't help it.

"Uh huh." He replied blandly, noting her expression and attempts of composure with a look that was pure ice.

And that was it, she lost it. It started as a few quiet giggles, but eventually steadily increased until her laughter rang in the evening air.

Aizawa Shouta was unamused as ever, his frown twisting on his face as she slowly regained control of herself and wiped a tear from her eyes.

"I-I'm sorry – it's just –" Miya attempted, before dissolving into more giggles. She took a few more breaths before attempting to speak again. "It just doesn't seem like something you'd enjoy very much."

"It's not." He replied grumpily, unamused by the response she'd had.

"Then why are you doing it?" She asked, face still alight with amusement. "That's not very _rational." _She teased lightly, using the logic he held so dear as an argument against him.

"It is completely rational." He snapped back, feeling his patience slipping. "Hizashi needed extra help, and I was the only one available. It was logical to accept."

"Are you sure it wasn't because Hizashi is your friend and you wanted to help him?" She asked innocently, setting her lips in a line to keep from grinning dumbly at him.

"Yes." He answered curtly.

"But are you positive?" She asked, pushing him even further.

"_Yes." _He replied, tone dropping dangerously.

"100%?" She asked innocently, to which he ground his teeth in response, the vein in his temple pulsing in annoyance.

"Enough, Miya."

_He used my first name? Odd. He almost always uses my surname._

She stopped her teasing, however, upon realizing he was at his limit. It was a dangerous game she was playing, and she felt as though she were walking upon a tightrope on a windy day. Miya heeded his advice, walking in silence for the rest of the trip to the station.

His train arrived first this time, and he only grunted at her when she said goodbye, still scowling to himself. Perhaps she had taken it a step too far this time, but he just made it so easy. She waved to him as the doors to the train closed with a swish – a gesture which he did not return, and then he was gone.

Miya inclined her head towards the sky as she crossed the platform and waited for her train, smiling softly to herself.

The sun had just set, and the first few evening stars were visible in the rapidly darkening sky. There were times she wished that she didn't live in such a heavily populated city; the light pollution meant that she rarely got a good look at the stars and planets that orbited in the sky.

She gazed at the few stars she could see as she continued the wait for her train, pondering upon where the larger and more well-known constellations might be located. Too much light meant no visible constellations.

An almost inaudible 'ping' from her phone interrupted her celestial musings, and she tore her gaze from the sky above to dig in her bag to bring her phone up to her face and unlock it.

_Message from: Yamada, Hizashi_

_[18:40 - Yamada, Hizashi to Tanaka, Miya: Hey there, doc! I got your letter back, the translation is attached. See ya tomorrow!]_

Miya's face lit up immediately. It had been two agonizingly long weeks as she waited for the requested information, and it was finally here. She clicked immediately on the attached document, bouncing nervously on her feet as she waited for it to download.

The document opened up on her phone and her eyes rushed to devour the long-awaited content.

'_Light of my heart,_

_You have turned sixteen today. I have gone to the masjid to offer prayers for your health and happiness, as I do each year on the day my greatest joy was born. May Allah bring you a year of laughter, happiness, and peace. I will be sending you some new clothing I have made for you, as well as more pictures I have taken of your family here, we are doing well by the grace of Allah._

_My daughter, each day we are apart is a tear added to my ocean of agony. I long to hear from you one day, and to hold you in my arms again. Know that I am always trying. The lands and oceans that separate a mother from her daughter are no match for the love held in her heart._

_Until then, I will continue to pray. _

_Happy birthday, Mahnaz. You are my heart,_

_Mama-jaan'_

…

Miya's phone slipped from her hand.

She watched it fall slowly, as if the world had somehow slowed its turning and each second had been prolonged extensively. It clattered on the hard cement pavement of the train station, splintering the delicate glass of the screen into a spider's web of multiple cracks.

She stared at it, eyes blank.

Her breathing began to quicken, short and rapid breaths filling her lungs and keeping time with a rapidly beating heart. Her head felt light and she swayed upon her feet.

Miya's stomach churned violently as she slowly knelt to pick up her phone in a daze, unconcerned with the damage for the time being. It was the last thing on her mind in that moment.

When the train arrived she stepped aboard, still feeling slightly woozy as she sat down in an unoccupied seat in an area that was less crowded. Clutching her phone tightly, she stared blankly in front of her, eyes unseeing as the scenery passed and passengers embarked and disembarked at their stops. Minutes passed like seconds.

_Shock. _She realized vaguely when the she numbly stood and exited the train at her station, movements clumsy and robotic. _I'm in shock._

She walked slowly, feeling somewhat disoriented as her steps hit the ground. Her body moved as though on autopilot, her feet taking her closer to the apartment she shared with her grandfather.

_There has to be an explanation. My name isn't Mahnaz, it's Miya._

_Maybe I have a sister? Or a cousin named Mahnaz who I never met? What if they have the wrong address, and it's all a big coincidence? There has to be a logical explanation. I'll ask 'Jii-chan._

But she knew, despite her desperate attempts to convince herself otherwise, that her life had just changed. A secret, one larger than she had ever imagined possible, had been drug from the darkness it had festered in for years and was now in the spotlight.

She would give her grandfather one last chance to explain himself before she revealed what she had found.

Her hands shook as she attempted to jam the keys into the front door, heart racing as she turned the lock and opened the door to step inside.

She walked in upon a familiar scene. Rice was sputtering in the steamer, her grandfather sat with a book in his favorite chair, the window above the sink was cracked to allow fresh air inside, the radio crackled in the background as the evening news played over the airwaves, and vegetables and fish were rinsed and had been set upon the kitchen counter to wait for her hands to assemble them into a meal.

A normal weekday evening. But none of these things, so very familiar to her, provided her with any sense of warmth or comfort like they usually did.

Her grandfather looked up, eyes narrowing in disapproval as he took in her haggard form.

"Covered in filth and bruises again?" He observed unhappily, frowning harshly at her sweaty and bruised skin. "Is that any way for a young lady to be walking about at night? The neighbors are beginning to gossip, you know. But don't mind me, it's clear you don't care for my opinion."

He was still angry, still flinging around passive insults when he spoke to her at all. Her breaking from his hold on her life had made him even more bitter than he already was, as though he was losing the last bit of family he had left to a lifestyle he abhorred.

But she no longer felt pity for him, and she was fresh out of the empathy she had been holding up until that very moment.

His passive aggressive verbal tirade slid right off her skin, and she hardly acknowledged his words before she spoke, voice low and shaky.

"Who is Mahnaz?" Her voice was hardly above a whisper, but the question was registered by Junichi, for the foul grimace on his face slipped from his features in an instant.

He looked as though he had seen a ghost.

He opened his mouth, but quickly snapped it shut. Miya waited, form still as stone as she stared him down like a hawk watching a mouse from its perch high above.

"Where did you hear that name?" Breathed her grandfather, as the color continued to drain from his face.

"That's not what I asked." Responded Miya, voice growing steadily more confident. "Who is Mahnaz?"

"Nobody. She's nobody." Junichi returned quickly, eyes panicked as he looked her up and down. "She doesn't exist. I don't know where you heard that name, but I promise you-"

"Promise me what?" She interrupted, brows knitting together angrily on her face. "Do you really expect me to believe anything that comes out of your mouth? After you've lied to me my entire life?"

Junichi stood then, cheeks flushing in anger.

"She's nobody! I don't know what's gotten into you lately, but this little act of rebellion has gone on long enough! How can you speak to me like that after all I've done for you?" He puffed out his chest in indignation, and Miya felt a sea of emotion swelling in her chest.

"Stop lying to me, 'Jii-chan…" She begged, voice cracking as emotion overwhelmed her. "I don't want to fight, but I have to know the truth. I found the letters in your room."

A look of fear mixed with a touch of indignation flashed in his eyes.

"You were snooping around my room? Have you no respect for-"

_Enough_. She's had enough.

"I know that Laleh is alive." Miya intoned quietly now, a dangerously deceptive air of calm when in reality, she was anything but. "I'm Mahnaz…aren't I?"

His jaw dropped, hanging open like a fish out of water. He sat down suddenly, looking as though he had become quite shaky all at once. Hunching over, her brought his thumb and index finger up to the bridge of his nose to massage the area in distress.

"I had a letter translated." Miya continued, giving him no chance to recover. "It was from my sixteenth birthday. But what I don't understand is why? Why would you keep this from me? She thinks I hate her because I never responded!"

A long silence stretched between them, each second painful for both. When he finally spoke, he sounded truly broken.

"It was for your own protection." Her grandfather's voice cracked, and he quickly coughed and cleared his throat in an attempt to continue. His tone was dark when he began again. "That woman wrecked this family. I wish she had been on that train too, I wish she had died as well. It would have been better for us."

Miya took a step back, horror coiling in her gut at her grandfather's words.

"How can you say that?" She breathed, searching his face for any signs that he might not be serious. Unfortunately, she found none.

"She chose to leave you behind. She abandoned you here, and I thought it was all over." He admitted the truth that had long been kept. "But then the letters and packages and postcards started flooding in, and I made the decision that I thought was best. I was trying to save you from the pain of knowing that she existed but would never be a part of your life. Everything I did was for you."

"No." Argued the distraught doctor. "You weren't trying to protect me at all, were you? You were afraid I would leave you one day, that I wouldn't rely on you anymore, that you'd be alone. You lied to me and manipulated me!"

"I – that's not –"

"I'm Mahnaz, right? Laleh called me Mahnaz in the letter."

Junichi's face twisted, as if he were in pain. Miya waited as patiently as she could manage, blood pounding in her veins as she watched him deflate in defeat.

"Yes. Your name was Miya Mahnaz Tanaka-Khorasani." He sighed, slumping in his seat. In that moment, he looked older than she had ever seen him. "I had it changed once she was deported. I wanted you to be like all the other Japanese children."

_Deported?_

"You said she abandoned me, but now you're saying she was deported?"

"It's not that simple." He snapped, before taking a breath to calm himself and continuing. "You were stateless, no passport. Just because you were born in Japan didn't make you a citizen. Our government is strict when it comes to foreigners and nationalities."

He paused, taking another long inhale and exhaling slowly before starting again.

"Her government retracted her visa. Since neither of you were citizens, they forced her to leave but gave her the option of letting you stay and naturalize because you were born here and had family here. She chose to leave you here with me. She didn't want you. She didn't love you, _but I do_."

Miya felt the turmoil deep in her heart.

She wasn't sure what to believe.

In the letter, her mother sounded desperate to return to her, and she was now unsure if she could trust her grandfather's words. But there was also the sinking suspicion of doubt directed towards the woman she had never met. If she truly had wanted to be a part of her life, why had she left her here in the first place, knowing that she would likely be unable to return?

Why had she left her behind? Laleh easily could have taken her back to Iran and claimed her citizenship there, but instead had chosen to return alone, leaving her daughter in the care of a bitter old man who had exercised tight and manipulative control on nearly every aspect of her life and erased half of her heritage from her being as she grew up.

Miya wasn't sure what to do. She didn't know who to believe or what to think.

All she knew was that she couldn't stay here.

"Bring me the letters, along with everything else she's ever sent. They're mine, you don't have a right to keep them from me."

Junichi faltered at the detached and tired sound of her voice, but rose anyway to fulfill the demand. She was correct, those items were hers. There was no point in keeping them from her anymore. Miya had uncovered his deceit, and he feared she might never forgive him if he withheld anything more from her.

He had no choice. If a bunch of letters and trinkets from that godforsaken woman who had wrecked his family would appease Miya, then he would hand them over to her with no complaint.

Junichi stood, shuffling into his room. Miya watched him go, pulling her phone out of her pocket as he soon as he was out of sight.

She had to try a few times to unlock her screen, the cracked glass of the mobile device posed some difficulties, but eventually she was able to open her messaging app to scroll through her contacts.

But who to ask?

_Hizashi? No, we're only acquaintances, that would be awkward. Aizawa? Forget it, I'm enough of a bother to him already…_

Her fingers hovered uncertainly over the screen, until she came to the name of the one woman she felt she had a close enough working relationship with to ask.

_Nemuri!_

While they weren't exactly close friends, she and the overly-sensuous woman were on good terms, and often took their lunch breaks together or texted and talked to each other on a more personal level outside of school. The two women were on a first name basis.

Hopefully, the woman and fellow co-worker thought the same of her. Miya truly didn't want to impose on anyone, but she knew she couldn't stay here, at least for a few days. She needed time apart from the elder man she shared the apartment with. She needed to think for herself, free from his manipulation and lies.

With her decision made, her thumbs moved quickly.

[_19:21 Tanaka, Miya to Kayama, Nemuri – Hey, Nemuri. I'm really sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if it would be possible if I could stay with you tonight. I'm sorry it's so last minute, but I'm not sure what to do.]_

Miya felt awkward, reaching so bluntly for help. She had never relied on anyone but herself and her grandfather before, never opening up deeply about her own life to another person.

Her heartbeat steadily increased when her phone immediately pinged, just seconds after having sent the message.

[_19:21 Kayama, Nemuri to Tanaka, Miya – Of course, I'm sending you my address now! Is everything okay? Are you hurt? Do you need help?]_

Her heart soared in relief at the sight of the message, she was right to have turned to Nemuri.

[_19:22 Tanaka, Miya to Kayama, Nemuri – I'm okay, I'll explain when I get there. Thank you so much, I really owe you one.]_

Her phone pinged again, most likely a quick response from Nemuri, but she hastily shoved it back into her pocket when her grandfather once again entered the common area, carrying a medium sized box with an ashen face.

"This is all of it." He murmured, weakly handing the cardboard box to his granddaughter. "Miya, I never meant to hurt you. I only ever wanted what was best for you - it was better this way. We can talk over dinner, I'll answer any question you have."

His words went in one ear and out the other.

'_It's better this way_.'

He'd been telling her that her entire life, as he dictated every aspect of her being to her. And she had always steadily accepted his rule and governance over her, obediently following him because she had truly believed that he had been looking out for her, that he was correct, that things were 'better this way'.

But not anymore.

Wordlessly, she took the box from him and turned, grabbing her keys from her pocket and opening the door to their apartment. She ignored his pleas for her to stay and hear him out, tuning out his futile attempts at an explanation.

She left, and she didn't look back.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hello all! Got another update on this fine Wednesday. A huge thank you to all who review, from the bottom of my heart.**

**Enjoy~**

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_The soft and warm wind of a summer breeze gently caressed her skin._

_The sun was bright even as it set, the intense heat of the rays scorching against Miya's skin. It was a different type of heat and brightness than what she was used to in Musutafu, an arid hotness that stole the breath from your lungs and nearby scenery that demanded your attention – so different than what she knew, what she was familiar with._

_This was not Japan, of that she was certain._

_She did not recognize the surrounding area, the scenery too foreign for her to place within her own memories. She had seen nothing like it before, perhaps only through a computer screen or documentaries of foreign lands._

_Land the color of pure gold mixing with muted greens stretched as far as she could see; cracked earth beneath her feet, shrubs and sparse greenery here and there, and tall mountains looming in the distance. The sun was setting, casting a warm, orange glow over the expanse of sun-weathered land, making the world look as if it were ablaze. _

_Miya had no word to describe the arid and intimidating terrain around her, there was nothing like this in Japan._

_And yet, despite the barren land and scorching sun that was lowering beneath the mountains in the distance, society seemed to thrive. Behind her stood a market, and many men, women, and children filtered between the stalls with a lively air, the town behind her coming to life in the absence of the harsh rays of the fading sun, colorful glass lanterns and stringed lights beginning to flicker to life against the darkening sky._

_She realized with a start that she was dreaming then, there was no other explanation._

_She swallowed her questions and surveyed the stalls of the market and the inhabitants of the city that looked to be built between mountains, all of whom shared similar features to herself and most likely her mother as well. _

_The city sported impressive architecture – luxurious tiled palaces, detailed mosaics, and looming minarets._

_Vivid reds, greens, and blues of their buildings contrasted the overwhelming monotony of the golden hills that surrounded the city. Colored flags, banners, tents, tinsels, and many other decorations lit the stalls and homes of the large settlement. Silver and brass pieces of jewelry chimed and tinkled on the women that they adorned and a myriad of sounds floated from the city, unlike anything she had heard before, gracing her ears. _

"_Mahnaz! Come here, love!" Miya turned her head to see a woman with features strikingly similar to her own beckoning her back towards the market, and she recognized the name that the woman had called her by._

_Mahnaz_.

Miya shot up with a start from her makeshift bed on Nemuri's couch, clutching at her chest where her heart threatened to explode from her body.

Her skin felt hot to the touch as she ran her hands up and down her arms, suddenly feeling quite cold in Nemuri's apartment. It was almost as though she truly had traveled beyond Japan, to the arid and hot climate that she had seen in her dream.

Iran, she had dreamed of Iran, despite the fact that she had never set foot in the country. She'd only seen pictures and videos of it recently, as she attempted to learn more about the culture that was stolen from.

But she had also dreamt of her mother, in some sort of alternate dream universe where she had grown up in Iran and not in Japan. Her heart pulsed as she thought about it, about the woman who had left her behind.

Miya sank back onto Nemuri's plush couch, kicking off the warm blanket and contemplating how different her life might have been if her mother had taken her with her instead of leaving her with Junichi.

It was a sobering thought, to think how differently her life might have played out, and all due to one decision made by the woman who had given birth to her. She might have grown up speaking a different language, wearing different cultural clothing, and eating different foods. She might have become something else, instead of the doctor and aspiring hero she was now. She might have gotten to know extended family, or perhaps even been raised to believe in a different thought process, or a different religion entirely!

Miya and her grandfather were not very religious, adhering to a few key tenants of the local beliefs, but nothing too extreme. They had a small alter of sorts with pictures of her father and grandmother and their great grandparents in their apartment that they occasionally lit incense on and all too often forgot about. They visited the local shrine in their area once or twice a year, but that was about it.

Miya preferred science. It was far easier a concept to understand.

A part of her had always wondered if there could be something else out there, a higher purpose or some sort of divine will, but had always found it uncomfortable to think about. Thoughts about what happened after death or any sort of supernatural presence that exceeded the known scientific realm were things she generally preferred not to think on for long periods of time, mostly because they contained questions that she could not find suitable answers to.

Some found their answers in the Buddhist temples, some found it in the older Shinto ways. Some found what they were looking for in the Christian deity that claimed "three-in-one", and some in nothing at all. Some believed in love and humanity, and some in many deities and incarnations that were too many to count, and some in just One.

For Miya, it had always been science. That steady, factual truth of both understanding and mysterious phenomena that just begged the more advanced minds to try and decode their mysteries – that was what felt comfortable for her. Most of her generation didn't have much of a faith either way, but she found comfort in the ever-changing world of science and medicine.

She wondered if her mother was religious.

There were many things she wondered about her mother.

What were her favorite foods? Did she have hobbies? Did she ever remarry? Did she have living parents or siblings that Miya could call grandparents, aunts, or uncles? What had she studied in Japan? What made her fall in love with Miya's father? How many languages could she speak?

The questions went on and on with no end in sight. Miya wondered how often her mother had pondered upon those same questions, wondering about things concerning her own daughter thousands of miles away. No doubt Junichi had made sure the woman was kept out of the loop as Miya grew up.

That thought caused her lips to set themselves in a firm line of discontent. If Miya was correct in that assumption, and she had every reason to believe that she was, then her mother might know even less about Miya than Miya knew about her mother.

None of this was fair, none of it was right, and the young doctor was unsure as to what her place was in all of this. She was not responsible for the estrangement between the two parties, but nevertheless found herself caught up in the middle of it all, whether she wanted to be or not.

How much her life had changed in the last short months! She'd gone from a life of research and medicine, safe in her little bubble, to this, whatever _this_ was. She wasn't quite sure. She'd gone from safety and simplicity to heroes and villains and some ridiculous family backstory that sounded more like a plot to one of those overdramatic daytime soap operas that grandmothers made sure not to miss an episode of.

That thought made her laugh quietly to herself. It was almost surreal how wildly her life had been turned upside down.

But she had turned it upside down herself. She'd been the one to quit her job to chase an almost impossible dream. She'd been the one to seek out a truth long hidden away by her grandfather. And she was glad that she had, at the end of the day, no matter how strange her life had become as a result.

And now she knew. Miya had a mother who was very much alive, despite the lies her grandfather had fed her.

A simple internet search had pulled up some basic information on the woman, mostly research articles written in a language she couldn't read yet, as well as a few pictures attached to professional medical journals. Miya had even found a phone number of an office located in the capital of Tehran, Iran.

But she was too scared to call.

A part of her, some horrible voice in the back of her mind, told her that if her mother had left her once then that was that. The woman probably wanted nothing to do with her.

Then again…

Miya's eyes slid to that dusty cardboard box that held a jumbled collection of different gifts, letters, postcards, and much more inside of it – the box filled with items that her grandfather had hidden from her, all tokens from her mother. That box proved her wrong. The woman had never given up in trying to reach her, it was her grandfather instead who had made the communication impossible, even going so far as to change her name to make it all the more difficult.

Now it all made sense, all the times her grandfather changed their phone number over the years. At the time he's always given believable excuses, like another phone number change because this number got too many solicitor calls, but now she knew the real reason: it was so that Laleh wouldn't find it.

But now Miya had a number to call, some sort of link that could possibly put her into contact with her mother. Nemuri thought she was insane, having a number to call but refusing to call it, but had ultimately backed off her pestering.

After Miya had arrived at Nemuri's doorstep two nights prior, she had explained everything to her colleague over cup after cup of steaming hot tea. The female hero listened quietly as Miya explained everything, and had happily agreed to let her stay as long as she needed.

It felt strange, to open up to someone like she had opened up to Kayama Nemuri, her first real friend. She'd had friends in medical school, of course, but nothing so deep as to share much personal information or troubles with – acquaintances, at best.

The truth was that Miya had gotten good at playing the part of the obedient and studious granddaughter over the years. She'd done everything her grandfather, professors, mentors, and supervisors had asked of her, every single thing.

And she had gotten good at building walls around herself while she did it. This was the first time in her life she was starting to let herself just live, to live free of influence. The walls she had built were beginning to crack, little pieces chipping away as the foundation to her safe and neat little world started to crumble. And she welcomed it, truly she did.

_Let them fall. I'm learning how to be myself. I'm learning about the parts of myself that Jii-chan tried to stamp out._

How strange a realization it had been to come to the conclusion that the one person she had trusted most was also the one who had also hurt her the most, without her really knowing it.

Tanaka Junichi had erased half of her identity, cut her off from family, and molded her into a replacement for the son he had lost all those years ago. He had used strict rules and classic manipulation tactics to keep her where he wanted her, on the path that he had chosen for her. Whether he had done it consciously or subconsciously, she didn't really know. She wasn't sure she cared either, it did little to erase the fact that the damage had been done.

There were some things she was grateful for, however.

She truly did love the study of medicine, and he had sacrificed much to allow her to study at the best schools. He had always believed in her, always provided for her, and always pushed her forward -because he knew she could do it. Having his confidence in her had given her the confidence she had needed to obtain her medical advancements and research.

Yet he had still hurt her, there was no denying that. She saw it clearly now for the first time.

Miya was confused, still trying to make sense of her own thoughts and emotions regarding a mother that had left her and a grandfather who had manipulated her. Both claimed to care for her, and she had evidence of it, but both had done their damage.

She wasn't quite sure what to think about it.

Perhaps it was best not to think on it at all, at least not now.

Miya sighed, huffing in annoyance when she realized she wouldn't be getting any more sleep. Her gaze slid once more to the box at the end of the sofa she had been sleeping on the last two nights. She'd already gone over the contents of the box a few times, but for some reason she couldn't stay away from trinkets inside, and she once again found herself situated on the floor and rummaging through the treasures inside of it.

Her fingers grazed over postcards, letters, and many pictures with little notes and dates scrawled on the backs. It seemed as though her mother had written to her without ceasing over the years, for the most recent letter she had found was dated back to only two months prior.

Her lips tugged into a frown as she unfolded the most recent letter, tracing her fingertips over the fresh ink and thick paper that had been neatly folded inside a crisp white envelope. It was a true shame she hadn't progressed very far in her studies in Farsi. There weren't enough sources, nobody to practice with, and the books could be quite confusing. And with all her time devoted to her new job and training for her provisional license outside of work, she had little time to spare to learning a new language.

She folded the letter, tucking it back inside the envelope before rummaging around again. This time, she pulled out a tunic from the box, one of many articles of clothing that looked as though they had been hand stitched by somebody. There were pieces of clothing small enough to indicate her mother had been stitching and sending her clothing since she was quite small.

Some sort of ethnic clothing, Miya was sure. Long tunics accompanied with loose pants and long headscarves to match, each tunic heavily embroidered with intricate and colorful patterns. Jewelry that looked as though it could have come out of something from 'Shahrazade's One Thousand Tales', and colorful shoes with pointed toes. All beautiful, but all very foreign to her.

The most traditional clothing Miya owned was a formal kimono that had belonged to her grandmother and a few yukata that had been collecting dust in her wardrobe for years. But now she had a whole box full of traditional clothing.

"You should wear one."

Nemuri's voice jolted her violently from her deep thoughts, and Miya glanced up in surprise as the pajama clad woman made her way from her personal room to take a seat on the floor by her colleague.

"Nemuri! You scared me half to death." Miya admitted as she let out a breath as she glanced towards the window to note first faint rays of impending sunlight beginning to brighten an inky night sky.

How long had she been lost in thought if the sun was already rising?

Nemuri cast her an amused glance as she situated herself on the floor and took the tunic from Miya's grasp to hold it out in front of her for inspection.

"You'll need to work on those nerves of yours if you want to be a hero, you know." She said teasingly, though her words rang true. "Villains are notorious for using surprises as a way to catch us off our guard."

Miya hummed in acknowledgement as Nemuri fingered the delicate and intricate embroidery on the fabric.

She was right, of course. Miya had always been an easy person to surprise, and her colleagues during medical school had taken great fun in popping out from behind doors when she entered a room to see if they could get her to scream or drop her books. They had often succeeded, Miya recollected crossly.

"Why don't you wear it?" Nemuri reiterated again, a sly grin on her face. "This color will make your skin tone look absolutely _luscious_. You'll have your pick from all the guys or gals if you let me do your make up too-"

"Absolutely not." Miya frowned, folding the tunic back up, a faint blush on her cheeks. "I'll pass on the romance, thank you."

"Who said anything about romance?" Scoffed Nemuri with a grin that insinuated far more than her words did. "You don't need romance to-"

"Please don't finish that sentence." Miya interrupted, cheeks flushing brighter by the second.

The pro hero gave a quick bark of laughter.

"I'm sorry, you're just too easy to tease!" She paused for a moment, features sobering after a while. "You're sure you won't call that number? It's just…and maybe it's not my place to say, but if I were in your situation I would have called the moment I found the number. Is there something holding you back?"

Miya sighed, fingers trailing over the foreign looking embroidery on the garment she had folded in her lap.

"I think I just need time to sort through all my thoughts. I want to make sense of all of this before I do anything." Miya admitted softly, and Nemuri gave a nod of understanding at her admission.

"That makes sense. You should wear that, uh…whatever it is, I wasn't lying about the color looking nice on you." Said the midnight-haired woman as she stood up and began to retreat towards her bathroom. "And it's your turn to make breakfast."

"Sure, it's the least I can do to repay you." Miya returned gratefully. "I'll be looking for a new apartment soon."

Nemuri scoffed once more as she disappeared into her bathroom, her voice carrying as she voiced her thoughts in an elevated voice so her guest would hear.

"I told you to stay as long as you need, stop worrying!" Her voice paused abruptly, and when she spoke again, it was with the sense that she had just remembered something. "Oh, and Shouta told me to let you know to eat a lot today, there's bound to be a lot of injuries with the festival. I had to tell him you were staying here since he's in charge of your apprenticeship and required to know about your whereabouts."

"Ah, I will, thanks!" Replied the doctor, unfolding the tunic once more as she inspected it. She supposed she could wear it, it wouldn't cause any harm. It would hardly be visible underneath her doctor's coat anyway.

Today was finally the day of the Sports Festival, and she would need a clear mind and full stomach for the events that would follow. She'd been warned by her colleagues and Recovery Girl that the Festival would require a lot from her, especially as a designated medic for all the injuries that were sure to be obtained. She and Recovery Girl would certainly have their work cut out for them.

Recovery Girl had expressed that she was delighted to have her assistance this year, since Miya's quirk would reduce the need for internal surgical practice, as well as the time spent healing each patient.

Apparently, the amount of kids that had serious injuries each year was a big number.

Miya squared her shoulders as she stood and made her way to the kitchen, she would need a large meal to build up enough energy for what was required of her today.

.

* * *

.

It was fun, at first.

At least until the avalanche of injured students began pouring through the doors of the temporary medical facility they had erected inside the stadium.

Whoever had designed the medical bay had been generous enough to place a large television mounted in the corner near the ceiling, so that she and Recovery Girl could watch what was happening within the stadium and different obstacle courses and rounds that took place. They had also thought to stock a small fridge with snacks, high calorie juices, and pre-packaged meals for Miya, which was much appreciated on her part.

Her money was on class 1-A and a few underdogs from 1-B.

And it wasn't just because 1-A had more advantage and higher scores than their other class, not at all. Miya recognized that talent could be found in many places, and sometimes in the place you least expected it. Even she was an example of that, after having failed the entrance exam but receiving another chance a decade later. No, she was betting on 1-A because of what they had been through during the USJ attack.

That attack and real-life experience had opened both their eyes and senses to what a real battle was like. At the USJ they had been fighting for their lives; no doubt a staged and proctored fight in an arena would pale in comparison to what they'd been through at the hands of the real villains they'd already went up against.

Miya felt her blood run cold as she recalled the blue-haired man, and the image of his hand stretching out towards her face replayed in her mind. It was an image she was having a hard time forgetting, for in that moment she had been sure her own demise was certain. That was the closest brush with death she'd ever experienced, and it had sobered her, reminding her that what she was aspiring to be wasn't all heroism and good feeling mumbo-jumbo. It was real, it was gritty, and it was extremely dangerous.

She realized that now, and so did the rest of 1-A. And that was why they had an edge on their opponents, who had not yet been exposed to something of that caliber and would be prone to moments of uncertainty and hesitation during combat.

And as the challenges passed, she realized she was right. The students from 1-A were making bold moves, they were certain in their actions, and they didn't hesitate. It didn't surprise Miya at all that most of them advanced to the quarter and semi-finals.

Miya and Recovery Girl had enjoyed sitting down and watching the first few 'weed-out' rounds of the sports festival until things got more serious and more students began flowing into the ward to receive treatment after they were eliminated from the brackets. The injuries thus far had been fairly minimal and easy to treat at the beginning. Bumps, bruises, a broken bone or concussion here and there, but nothing too alarming.

It was busy work though, and after the first few hours Miya was lucky if she could catch a glance at what was happening on the television set as she flitted between students and administered treatment as she saw fit and as Recovery Girl directed.

It wasn't until the one-on-one battles began that she realized the real hurdles would now be on her horizon.

Acid abrasions, frostbite, charred skin from explosions and flames, broken bones, fractures, she was seeing and treating it all. The sports festival participants weren't holding anything back, fighting with all their strength for the hope of securing a good internship or a winning medal.

She supposed she couldn't blame them. There were only three chances for each year they spent at UA to succeed – and in this instance, true success came not from victory over your match, but how you fought and the strategy you used as you battled.

Top hero agencies were watching with eyes like a hawk, and every student here hoped desperately to catch the attention of the agents scouting for talent. Brutal displays of raw power, cunning shows of intellect and strategic capability, and perseverance were what they flaunted as they each battled to gain recognition.

She couldn't help feeling sorry for those that came into the ward with the looks of dejection on their faces as they recovered from their lost matches, and she tried her best to offer words of encouragement and praise for how they fought as she healed injury after injury.

She received small smiles and thanks for her work in return from each student…at least until Bakugou Katsuki was forced into the recovery ward towards the end of the festival, even angrier than he usually was, which was saying something.

"I'll blow your damn face off if you lay a finger on me!" The feral looking teen bellowed as he attempted once more to step past Miya and a few security officials who had all but drug him and a battered Todoroki to the medical ward for treatment.

Miya raised an unimpressed brow, stepping in his way despite the threat she'd just received.

Recover Girl made a small 'tsk' sound as she leaned over the young Todoroki, mumbling as she often did about how 'kids these days have no manners' as she assessed his injuries.

The younger doctor agreed with her on this one, however.

"Sit down of your own will or I'll have the security do it for you." Threatened Miya, voice tight as she responded.

She was utterly exhausted, and she was too tired to deal with a boy who was acting more like a feral, hissy cat than a human.

"GO AHEAD AND TRY IT, DR. PIG! I'LL BLOW YOU SKY HIGH!"

Miya paused abruptly, unsure whether to laugh or scowl at the nickname that he apparently knew her by.

She had heard him calling his other classmates by nicknames, not bothering to memorize their given names or surnames. She'd heard 'round face', 'deku', and 'half and half bastard', but what she hadn't realized was that he also had one for her.

Miya knew that the students had seen how much she ate on a normal day due to how much energy using her quirk required of her. And she couldn't deny it – she probably ate two to three times as much as a normal person, but it was necessary. The more she used her quirk without replenishing her own energy, the more her body would start converting fat and muscle into energy for her to use.

No matter how much she ate, it always seemed like she was on the verge of falling into a weight that was too low, likely due to how much she was using her quirk these days. She had recently started making sure all her meals were high calorie and high protein in order to make sure she stayed at a healthy weight.

She did eat a lot, she supposed the nick name 'Dr. Pig' was perfectly logical in the eyes of Bakugou Katsuki.

It was Recovery Girl who spoke next when Miya failed to find her tongue.

"Sit down, child. Exams after battles are mandatory and you know it. I'll report it to your sensei if you don't comply with the rules." Recovery Girl spoke tightly, exasperation with the boy leaking into her voice. "Dr. Tanaka, take him to the back room, I think it's best if we separate these two boys."

"You heard her, follow me…._you little brat_." She murmured that last part under her breath as she turned and beckoned him to follow. "And if you don't, I'll tell Aizawa-san you terrorized the medical staff. I don't think he'd be too pleased to hear that, don't you agree? And we all know his legacy of expelling students who can't handle directions…" She trailed off, letting the vague threat sink in.

It worked though, even if she had made him so mad she thought he might just blow steam from his ears.

She made sure to mind her tongue after that. She didn't want to push the kid too far when he was already so visibly livid beyond compare.

The majority of his private exam was conducted in silence as the boy glowered, but ultimately let her check him over.

It didn't take too long. The most damage he had sustained was the overuse of his right arm muscles and straining his quirk too far, as well as some small burns on the palm of his hands from the heat of his larger blasts.

"You'll want to take it easy for at least three days." She informed him as she used what little was left of her energy to bring her healing essence to her skin as she took his hands and began to heal the blistered skin there. "This will tingle a bit, that's normal."

He grunted at her in return, which, she acknowledged, was at least a step or two above the yelling from earlier.

She eyed him as she worked, noting his angry glare fixed stubbornly on the wall in front of him.

"You did really well, you know." She stated, despite her best judgement. "You did win, after all."

"No. I didn't." The teen all but growled back at her.

Miya blinked. Had she missed a concussion when she was checking him over? Was he confused?

"You did." She insisted. "And it was an impressive battle."

"That icy-hot bastard…" He spat, limbs trembling in barely restrained fury as he struggled to speak. "He gave up, he stopped fighting. He LET me win. I'm going to KILL HIM!"

If she hadn't already been used to how often he spouted death threats, she might have been worried.

"You might try speaking to him first before you resort to manslaughter. That's not the most heroic action in the world." She joked lightly, though her attempts at humor were not appreciated.

"Shut the hell up, you damn Pig Doctor."

And this time, she did. Though, much to Bakugou Katsuki's extreme annoyance, she did let out a small peal of laughter at his insult.

.

* * *

.

A bright desktop computer screen was the only thing that provided light to the dimly lit room in which a man was the sole occupant.

His fingers tapped and drummed an anticipatory and impatient beat against the desk his hand was resting on, though he took care not to have all fingers connected to the surface at the same time.

The screen illuminated the results of the long-anticipated sports festival, as the victors were crowned, medals adorning their necks. Watchers from around the entire world had tuned in, waiting eagerly to see which of the students would emerge victorious after a long day of trials and battles – and so had he.

The results had not disappointed him, not at all. He watched with morbid and excited attention as the first-place winner thrashed against restraints, displaying a wild and violent side that delighted the man to no end.

Perfect. The boy was perfect; the exact kind of rage he was looking to harness for his own agenda.

Shigaraki Tomura smiled, dry lips cracking as they stretched in a way they normally did not.

Anger was easy to corrupt and poison, and perhaps Bakugou Katsuki had much of it, perhaps too much. That type of anger was dangerous, and easy to manipulate; it was that type of explosive attitude and rage that prompted many civilians and heroes alike to give in to the darker temptations of their mind and sink into folds of villainy.

The boy was powerful as well, even after what was less than a year of formal training, he put many older and experienced villains to shame. That type of power was what Shigaraki needed in a subordinate, and if he could just find a way to re-direct the boy's rage towards the villain's own goals, he could be all but unstoppable.

His smile fell somewhat when his eyes flicked across the screen, a small smudge of blue coming into focus as the camera panned over all the staff of UA who had helped organize and provide service for the sports festival as they stood in a group off on the sidelines.

It was then that he saw her, and he felt his blood grow hot with indignation as he recognized her.

She was the one who had made a fool of him by beguiling him into her little trick to stall for time and thwarting his attempt on her life. It made him itchy just thinking about it, and he couldn't help but satisfy the urge as he brought his nails to the skin on his neck.

She was also the woman that The Doctor, the creator of the Nomus, had decided would be useful to his research and development. He had not been told much, other than The Doctor wished to study her to try and replicate how her body regenerated itself on command so that he could incorporate that aspect into his Nomus to make them even more formidable.

His Master and The Doctor had decided that both the Bakugou boy and the young doctor would be useful to their cause. They wanted the two of them, they had decided that the boy and the woman had value, and they would make use of them.

And it was now his job to make sure that happened. But it was too early yet. He needed more followers, subordinates to help him accomplish this.

So, in the meantime he would research, he would learn as much as he could about them. And when the time was right, he would strike.

They would come into his clutches, whether they came willingly or not.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N - Back at ya with another update! I need to work on my Naruto story, but I just seem to have more inspiration for this one at the moment. (Your kind reviews are what motivated me, so thank you to all who review, you have my love!)**

**On another note, I need to make a small statement: I recently deleted a racist anon review, and there's another review I got that was commentating on how horrible a place Iran/Middle East is for women and mixed-race people. I would like to ask you all to leave your political opinions out of the review section and kindly limit your reviews to the actual characters and story itself. As a mixed-race muslim woman myself, these kind of comments can be distressing. **

**Thank you.**

**.**

* * *

**.**

Paperwork, paperwork, and more paperwork.

It had become the pinnacle of her duties in the aftermath of the sports festival. For ever little bump, scrape or bruise, each injury, whether major or minor, had to be extensively recorded. Each band-aid administered, each time she had used her quirk – everything had to be detailed and documented.

And for something as extensive as a tournament that had pitted the students against each other fighting tooth and nail to see who would emerge victorious out of the many hopeful contenders, there was a lot of information to file away.

Miya hated this part of her job, even though it was a necessary and inescapable part of it. What was worse, Recovery Girl had taken the week off to go visit her niece and nephew in Sapporo, who had recently welcomed their newborn son into the world. And though she was happy for the elderly woman and recognized that she deserved the well-earned time off, it hadn't necessarily been the best timing with all the extra work that came about after the festival.

But she bore it with steady shoulders and a patient disposition, because she knew that by the time the next year came around she would be on her own. Recovery Girl would eventually retire, which was the reason Miya had been hired in the first place, and the young doctor would be doing everything on her own after that. So, she considered this good practice.

The minutes flew by as she snacked and typed away on her desktop. The desk itself was piled high with reports that needed filing, and she felt as though she were hiding behind small mountains of paperwork.

She'd even dreamt of filing reports the night before, as she tossed and turned in a fitful sleep on Nemuri's couch.

Aizawa had briefly suspended her training for the time being, while she put in long hours to see everything done as it needed to be and worked late into the night. For the extra time to work she was grateful, but she was beginning to feel antsy.

She hadn't trained with him for a some time now, and she'd hardly seen much of him at all due to the differences in their schedules and responsibilities.

She didn't like it.

Miya had grown accustomed to their schedule over the course of the last few months, and she had even grown comfortable in his presence. She felt like she was truly progressing in her strength and stamina, as well as getting closer to understanding him. And even though they'd had very few lengthy conversations, there seemed to be an air of understanding and commonality between them that felt…well, she wasn't really sure.

All she knew was that she'd be glad to return to their normal schedule and training sessions again when their schedules returned to normal.

But this evening, like the last few that had preceded it, held only paperwork for her to tackle.

The evening itself was a lovely one, or at least it seemed so from her office's window when she stole a glance outside. A quick look down at her wristwatch showed the hands moving closer to eight, and she closed her eyes for a moment, imagining she was outside enjoying the cool evening air that ushered in the weekend instead of sitting cooped up in an office and surrounded by mountains of paperwork.

A sharp rap on the door sounded then, jolting the woman from her wistful daydream. Miya sat up straight as the door creaked open.

"Miya-chan? You're still here?" Came the unimpressed voice of the raven-haired woman who had poked her head into the office space. With a narrowed gaze and a nose wrinkled in disdain, she continued. "I saw the light on as I was leaving, what are you doing putting in overtime? It's Friday night!"

Miya sat back in her chair and allowed her shoulders to slump into a more relaxed position at the familiar face. Brown eyes made darker by the circles that sat underneath them met the blue gaze of her impromptu roommate's.

"There's still so much to do." The doctor lamented, allowing the exhaustion she felt to leak into her tone. "I'm getting close to finishing, but there's still a lot."

"Then take your laptop home and work from home tomorrow! You need a break." Stated Midnight in all seriousness, eyebrows raised at the piles of reports, medical documents, and insurance claims that lay stacked on the wooden surface. "Some of us are going out to eat, you should come. We're going to a Korean place that opened up a few blocks away."

"Oh, I don't know if I-" Miya was simultaneously interrupted and betrayed by her own stomach, which rumbled audibly at the mention of food.

Nemuri gave a loud laugh and looked pointedly at Miya, who only sighed and began collecting her things. Perhaps it was time to call it a night, and she couldn't deny that she was hungry. And besides, it was useless to try and argue with Nemuri. She was the most hard-headed person that Miya had ever met.

The older of the duo waited patiently as Miya changed into a more casual outfit and folded away her scrubs after throwing her hair back in a messy ponytail. She had learned from experience already that it was good to change up one's look when out and about now that she was part of a well-renowned establishment and might be recognized. Nemuri usually wore business casual attire and a French twist in her hair when she ventured out into civilian society, and the different look gave her an air of anonymity that was essential to any hero that wanted a normal life outside of their work.

With a simple t-shirt tucked into boyfriend style jeans and a pair of white tennis shoes, she adopted the look of a university or post-doc student instead of a staff member of a prestigious highschool. Nemuri herself looked as though she could be a receptionist or a banker of sorts instead of a pro-hero. It was amazing what a simple change of clothes could do to help you blend into the crowd, and it allowed the two women to walk down the streets unnoticed and undisturbed.

With her things packed and her bag slung over one shoulder, Miya locked up her office and followed alongside Nemuri as they left the building and began their walk, choosing to traverse by foot instead of rail due to the proximity and the refreshing night air.

"I was thinking," Began the woman, as they crossed at a busy intersection. "You should be my roommate. I can clear out the room I'm using as office space in my apartment. I know it's a little small, but it'll fit a standard futon and dresser."

Miya nearly tripped over her own feet at the declaration from the hero at her side.

"I – really? Are you – are you sure? I mean, I don't want you to feel obligated, and you've already helped me so much…" Miya fumbled through her thoughts and surprise as she attempted to string together coherent sentences, which Nemuri only smiled at.

"Yeah, it's been fun having you there, and you're a good cook."

Miya lifted an eyebrow at the latter part.

"You want me to room with you because you like my food?"

"Do I need a better reason?"

"I guess not." Returned Miya, who was now smiling to herself. She was quite pleased with the offer, she couldn't deny it. Her relationship with Nemuri was one she was very grateful for, and the idea of sharing an apartment with one of her first real friends was a happy one.

"Plus, you won't have to go back to living with your grandfather or have to start over in a new apartment, and I get good food and a cheaper rent. It's a win-win, really."

"Thank you, Nemuri, I really mean it." Miya said, warmth glowing in her voice.

Nemuri blinked once before slapping the younger woman on the back.

"Don't go getting too sentimental on me now, it's just a cramped room with a mediocre view."

Miya smiled brightly at her, but didn't press her gratitude any further. The two women chatted amiably after that for the remainder of their walk, until they came up onto the threshold of the restaurant.

"HEEEEEY!" The two women snapped their heads to the left immediately upon stepping into the restaurant.

_I don't even need to look to know Yamada-san is here. _

But Miya looked anyways, and she was not disappointed.

Biting her lip to keep from laughing, she observed Hizashi waving his arms wildly and beckoning them loudly to where the rest of their party was seated. The blonde was excited for the weekend from what it looked like, and the underground hero sitting next to him looked positively murderous at his friend's unapologetic screeching. Next to the duo, Miya spied Cementoss, who looked to be shrinking lower in his seat in embarrassment as Hizashi caused a scene.

Casting apologetic smiles at the annoyed faces of other customers sitting at the tables they passed, Miya and Nemuri quickly made their way towards the table in the hopes that the loud blonde would quiet upon their arrival.

"Inside voices, Hizashi-kun." Reprimanded Nemuri as she slid into a seat at the table.

Miya followed suit, taking a seat across from Aizawa and next to the cement block hero and saying a quick hello to everyone there, which was drowned out immediately by the playful bickering between Nemuri and Hizashi.

Aizawa only grunted something that Miya took for a 'hello', before folding his arms and perusing the menu unhappily.

_Grumpy as always. _Miya acknowledged, biting the inside of her lips to keep from smiling as the man sulked. _Yamada-san probably forced him to come from the looks of it._

Knowing better than to press him for conversation when he was already in a foul mood, Miya made polite conversation with Cementoss as they ordered and waited for their food to arrive.

"And what about you, Miya-chan? Did you pick your name yet?"

Miya paused in her conversation with the cement hero to look towards an eager looking Hizashi who had broken from his conversation with his female colleague to direct a question her way, and she couldn't help the smile that spread on her features at the fact that he had added a "-chan" to her name.

So far within their group, she had only been referred to as Dr. Tanaka or Tanaka-san, which was normally common for those who didn't know each other too well. The more familiar honorific was one she rarely heard from anyone, but she welcomed it in this scenario, it made her feel as though she were truly starting to develop real friendships that went beyond the acquaintanceships she had carried for most her life.

She was making friends, real friends, and she was glad for it.

The warm honorific, however, did not change the fact that she had no idea what Yamada Hizashi was talking about.

"I'm sorry?" She inquired with a curious tilt of the head, prompting the man to elaborate.

"Your hero name, of course!" He declared, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Sucking in an overdramatized breath, he let his gaze drift in accusation towards Aizawa. "You haven't told her yet? Aren't you supposed to be in charge of her? Sounds like you've been slacking!"

The haggard looking hero narrowed his eyes dangerously, the words striking a chord within him. The man might tote a sleeping bag around and catch naps whenever he could, but Aizawa Shouta was not a slacker, and he did not appreciate his friend's attempt at humor.

"She's been busy, I was going to bring it up on Monday." He responded, a hint of defensiveness in his tone.

"Uh-huh. Suuuuure." Hizashi replied, poking fun at his childhood friend, who's face soured even further at his words.

"I didn't know it was time to pick one." Miya interrupted, hoping to intercede before things got worse. "I haven't given it much thought."

"It's probably time you did." Cementoss interjected as well, sensing the need for a topic change. "Classes 1-A and B picked theirs today and had their choices recorded, you'll need to pick one soon as well."

"So soon?" Miya asked, eyes widening before she continued sheepishly. "I thought I'd have more time. How did you guys pick your names? Maybe that will help, because I'm not sure where to start."

"I chose mine because it was fitting and easy to remember." Cementoss offered with a casual shrug of the shoulders.

Miya nodded as she glanced to Midnight. His logic was sound. 'Cementoss' was pretty straight to the point.

"Well, mine puts people to sleep, but I also wanted something sultry to go with the look I was trying to portray. The more exciting parts of life tend to happen after midnight, if you catch my drift." Whispered Nemuri with a wink her way.

Miya blushed at the insinuation before quickly looking to Hizashi. She was truly fond of Nemuri, but the woman had a habit of making the most suggestive innuendos. Miya was still adjusting to that particular habit. Many times, they tended to fly right over her head; but some of them, like the one just made, made her skin flush a bright and healthy red.

Thankfully, Hizashi spoke up.

"Mine is hip and cool, just like me! I wanted it to stick out, something loud – ya feel me?" He replied animatedly, wiggling his fingers for effect before nudging Aizawa with his elbow. "And I picked his out because he couldn't be bothered to think of anything even halfway decent. You really owe me one!"

_Wait…'Eraserhead' was Yamada-san's idea? I'd always wondered how he picked that name, I guess now I know._

"I don't owe you anything." Aizawa grumbled from the side.

"You don't owe me anything? I labored for hours to pick a groovy name for you and this is the thanks I get for –"

"Shut up, cockatoo, they'll kick us out of the restaurant. You've already gotten us banned from twelve places." Exclaimed Nemuri when the blonde's voice began to rise in indignation.

"That wasn't my fault!" He cried, causing multiple pairs of eyes around the restaurant to center in on their table.

"Yes it was! You're always –"

"Oh look!" Exclaimed Miya, cutting into the argument and trying desperately to keep things stable. "Food's here!"

She heard Cementoss sigh as the waitress placed plates in front of them, and the bickering ceased as they all began their meal.

Crisis averted…for now. There was never a dull moment within her new friend group, that much was certain.

As Miya chewed, she contemplated.

It made sense to her that she should choose something related to the medical field, or something directly related to her quirk. She figured it should be simple – nothing too ornate or flashy, a name that would be easy to remember and give people a sense of ease when they heard it.

She concentrated on the aspects of her quirk, focusing on the life-giving properties it possessed by allowing her to regenerate organic matter. It built up, gave life, and allowed health to prosper, and she wanted her name to reflect that.

'Life' seemed to be the central theme of what she did and focused on. Her quirk gave life on the most basic cellular level, and her skills as a doctor helped her to better preserve life and health.

The idea popped into her head suddenly, and she blurted it aloud before thinking about it.

"Vita-Girl."

Four pairs of eyes focused on her and she blushed as she continued, explaining her sudden outburst.

"Vita means 'life' in Latin, and Latin is heavily used in the medical field." She offered a quick background on her choice. "And 'Vita-Girl' pays respect to Recovery Girl, who I'll be replacing after she retires. It takes what I am and what I want to be and puts it all in one name."

"Vita-Girl, huh?" Hizashi rubbed his chin in thought before grinning ear to ear. "I like it, doc!"

"It's adorable!" Cooed Nemuri.

"It's a catchy name. Nice and simple." Nodded Cementoss in approval.

Aizawa spoke then, and Miya caught his eye. She noted that this time, however, he did not look quite as grumpy as he had before.

"It suits you."

That was all he said, but for some reason, Miya felt her heart flutter, as if he had offered her fabulous words of praise instead of a simple statement of approval.

She smiled then, a genuine and warm smile directed towards Aizawa that caught the underground hero completely off guard in a way he hadn't been prepared for. He looked away first, picking up his chopsticks returning to his meal without another word.

For reasons unbeknownst to Tanaka Miya, his approval meant more to her than anyone else's.

For reasons unbeknownst to Aizawa Shouta, he couldn't seem to find the strength to hold her gaze when such warm sentiments were directed to him and him alone.

But those reasons were suspected by Kayama Nemuri, who observed the subtle interaction between the two with a keen and intuitive eye.

_Oh. _Thought Nemuri to herself with a sly smile. _Now this is an interesting development, indeed._

_._

* * *

_._

'_You've reached Dr. Tanaka. I'm sorry I couldn't take your call, but if you leave your name and number I'll get back to you as soon as –'_

Tanaka Junichi snapped his simple flip-phone shut with a nasty scowl.

She was still ignoring his calls.

He'd lost track of how many days it had been since she left, and how many times he had tried to call her subsequently. He'd left messages crying and begging for her to return, yelling and threatening to call the police and file a missing person report, and asking her forgiveness.

Not a single call was returned, and he wondered if she was even listening to his messages. The only communication she had sent him since disappearing into thin air that night was a single text that had read 'I'm safe. I'm staying with a friend', and that was it. She had neglected to tell him who that friend was or where she was staying. He hadn't even known she had friends she could stay with.

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as he attempted to swallow the lump in his throat back down.

Tanaka Junichi had not cried since the day his son Hayato had died, and he sure as hell wasn't going to start again anytime soon. Or at least, that's what he told himself.

Their previously shared apartment seemed cold without his granddaughter's warm presence. Each evening he waited patiently in his chair in the living room in the off chance she returned. He waited for the sound of her keys jingling outside to unlock the door. He set two plates for dinner every night.

But Miya did not come.

Her plants were dying without her caring touch, and their apartment looked less lively and homey as it had before. He knew she was around and well, despite the fact she did not take his phone calls. He knew it because she continued to pay their bills from afar.

Junichi sighed, turning his old cell phone over and over again in his palms as he debated if he ought to call again.

His emotions were a mess, and his life had been turned upside down. He knew that what he had done was wrong, he recognized that. But, at the same time, he couldn't help but feel jaded at her behavior.

Could she not see that he had done it out of her best interest? Could she not remember how hard he had worked to put her through medical school? How he had supported her every step of the way on the path that he had paved for her with his own two hands? He had laid that road for her, brick by brick with the sweat of his brow, but she had still chosen to veer off into the unknown, away from the safety of the life he had predetermined for her.

Ungrateful. Childish. Disloyal. He had raised her, he had protected her, he had done his best to keep her sheltered from the cruelty of the world they lived in – and this was how she thanked him.

His emotions continued to swing violently between guilt and a feeling of self-righteous indignation.

Her words from the night she had left still rang in his ears.

'_You weren't trying to protect me at all, were you?'_

But he was, he always had been. Couldn't she see that? Everything he had done had been for her sake. He had tried to keep her safe from the world of heroes and villains that had taken Hayato from him. He had tried to steer her to a prosperous and safe life, following in the footsteps of his beloved and only son.

'_You lied to me and manipulated me.'_

He had, he could not deny it. But it had been for her own good. He had wanted her to be normal, he had wanted her to be _Japanese_.

There were times he looked at her and saw his beloved son, and even the sharp and high cheekbones of his late wife in her face. But more often than not he saw her mother, that damned desert heathen. Miya resembled Laleh as well.

That skin, that hair, the shape of her eyes and nose – it was from Laleh, like a horrible reminder he would never be rid of.

He wished she had been paler like most of her friends growing up. He wished her eyes looked more like theirs. He wished her lips were thinner like theirs. He wished she wasn't taller than her other female friends. There was just enough Persian blood in her veins to pollute what Hayato had given her into something strange.

He didn't trust foreigners, he didn't like them. He was scared of what he couldn't understand – and Laleh's strange and foreign culture and customs fell under the category of what he could not understand or tolerate in his own family. Or rather, what he did not want to spend time trying to understand or learning to tolerate.

The news stations today used words like 'xenophobia, discrimination, religious prejudice, homophobia, and racism', but he wasn't any of those things, he was sure of it.

In his day, those words hardly existed. Men and women of this new generation were too sensitive, too radical, too accepting of alternative lifestyles, religions, and cultures – and he didn't like it one bit.

The world had changed since his boyhood, in a way that was too fast for him to comprehend. It was hogwash, all of it. He clung to his views of blood purity and traditional values like a life line in an ocean of immorality.

Was there anything so wrong with that?

Apparently, according to Miya's generation and kids these days.

'_You were afraid I would leave you one day, that I wouldn't rely on you anymore, that you'd be alone.'_

That statement was the one that had hurt him the most.

In a more primal sense he recognized that it was the truth, even though he was far too proud to admit it to himself or his granddaughter.

A foreign woman and quirks had ruined everything. He would never forgive Laleh, and he would never learn to accept quirks for anything more than what they were - a disease, a plight upon humanity.

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.

His eyes widened as he leapt from his chair, shuffling quickly to the door and fumbling with the chain lock to wrench it open. Surely it had to be Miya, she had probably just lost her keys and was knocking instead. It had to be her, she must have come to her senses and come back.

Things could return to normal again! Junichi opened the door with glad tidings upon his lips.

"Miya! I knew you'd see sense and come back, I –" He stopped then, his words dying before he could finish.

It was not his granddaughter. His heart sank and his shoulders slumped downward at the revelation.

He did not know the old man who stood outside his door, and he could not place his face from his memories.

The man was strange looking, dressed in a simple ensemble with a medical mask on his face, likely due to the fact that flu season was upon them. The man wore the most peculiar goggles over his eyes, however, which spruced up an otherwise bland attire.

"Good evening." The man began courteously. "Would I be correct in assuming that this is the Tanaka residence?"

"I – yes." Replied Junichi, collecting himself and steeling his face so his disappointment did not show. "May I help you?"

"I was hoping to speak to Tanaka Miya." The man replied politely, though his voice seemed to drip in a forced, sickly-sweet tone that might have sent chills down the spine of anyone around him.

Junichi remained oblivious to the ominous aura the man omitted. The mention of his missing granddaughter's name caused his lips to tug downwards.

"She ain't here. Ran off to chase that silly hero dream of hers. Good riddance." He grumbled, though his words were just a façade, even the strange looking man on his doorstep could tell they weren't serious. "What do you want with her?"

The mysterious figure on the doorstep paused, thinking about the best way to answer. He already knew that the girl might not be present; from his snooping and prying he'd found out she had previously left the apartment she shared with her grandfather and had yet to return.

It was her grandfather he was after for now; he knew it would be a piece of cake to gather more intimate information on the woman from her elderly and oblivious grandfather. It was easy to see he was embittered, and an emotionally clouded mind meant for easier manipulation. His mission couldn't be any easier.

It was quite clear to him that Tanaka Miya's grandfather did not approve of her current occupation and aspirations, and he would use that to his advantage.

"Oh, now that is a shame." He lamented, throwing in a sigh for believability. "And after I came all this way from the hospital to offer her a job too."

Junichi's ears perked at that, and the man knew that he would take the bait.

"A job? At a hospital?" Junichi queried, a hopeful spark in his eyes. "Please come in! I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name..?"

"Ujiko." The man replied easily, feeding the older man one of his many false identities. "Dr. Daruma Ujiko."

It was all too easy to deceive Tanaka Junichi, and The Doctor fought to contain the gleeful smile that threatened to bloom out from underneath the medical mask he wore to help conceal his identity. He stepped inside, politely declining the tea that was offered to him and preparing to begin.

It had originally been Shigaraki Tomura who had volunteered to scout out her home and gain more information about her quirk, but All for One, along with Kurogiri and The Doctor himself had opposed the idea immediately.

Shigaraki had sulked at the decision, but eventually realized the wisdom in it. In the off chance that Tanaka Miya were to return to the apartment that night, she would no doubt recognize Tomura immediately. She had seen Shigaraki face to face at the USJ incident, there was no way that they could allow the icy-haired man to conduct this mission.

But The Doctor was a face she had never seen, and so it was decided that he would go instead.

That was not the only reason they had decided against his participation this evening, however. Neither All for One nor The Doctor trusted that Shigaraki would have been able to keep his act together if she was around.

The young man had developed some sort of morbid fascination with the girl, and he was still emotionally unhinged from the fact she had been able to stop his quirk in its tracks, thwarting his attempted murder of her with a quirk that had made him feel powerless for the first time in a long time. The young man seemed disgruntled and disturbed by their encounter, but with time his focus on her took on different aspects to it as well.

It was clear that Shigaraki was both fascinated and enraged with her at the same time, and that was a dangerous combination that made it hard to trust his already volatile nature.

"Yes, yes! I've read much of her work and keep track of her published research studies, all quite impressive, I must admit." The Doctor continued, though this time he was not lying.

He _had_ read the majority of her published work, theories, and research studies. For such refined talent in a woman that early in her medical career, there were few who could compete with that. The Doctor would admit that he was indeed impressed with her mind.

But her mind wasn't what he was after.

That quirk of hers… If he could find a way to extract, harness, and replicate the power her body possessed, his Nomus would be invincible. It would revolutionize his own work. And, if he could somehow manage to persuade her to their side, he would also have her talented mind at his disposal as well.

It would make the League of Villains unstoppable if he could somehow manage to do this.

The decision had already been made that Bakugou Katsuki would be one of their targets, perhaps another of the students as well. The boy's raw power and unharnessed rage was something that All for One and Shigaraki felt certain they could mold to their liking.

Tanaka Miya would soon join that list as well if The Doctor was pleased with the information he got out of her grandfather this evening.

If all went as planned, the hotheaded teen and the young doctor would both fall into their clutches. It was only a matter of time.

Junichi was delighted to hear the words of praise for his granddaughter's medical feats, and if his guard had been up at all earlier, it was certainly down now.

"She's always been a bright girl, just like her father I always say. My Miya is one of the smartest girls of this day and age!" The grandfather practically gushed. "You have a job for her? It does my heart good to hear it. She's wasting her talent at that academy, mark my words. I'll not have her squander herself. These quirks are good for nothing!"

"The job would be in quirk research and development." The Doctor lied through his teeth, appealing to a sense of prejudice that he was sensing from the old man. "We want to see if there's a way to reverse the mutational damage that quirks have done to the human race, and we need a highly skilled team of professionals in order to make progress with our research."

A lie, it was nothing but a lie and could not be further from the actual truth, but it was precisely what Tanaka Junichi needed to hear in order to trust the villain who sat in his living room with him.

Oh, how easy it would be to trick the old and gullible man into telling him the information he wanted.

Junichi stared at the man in wide-eyed admiration.

"You mean to say…my granddaughter could help you and your team return humanity to how it was meant to be? You can make it all normal again? That's truly possible?" Junichi gaped, his jaw dropping in awe.

To imagine his own granddaughter taking on such a noble task, Junichi couldn't believe it!

"My son…Hayato, he died because of those horrible quirks. My granddaughter left home and left me alone because of them. All they've ever brought me is pain. And you're saying there's a chance you could reverse it all?"

"Oh yes! We're quite certain that we could accomplish this with your granddaughter's help, if she's as talented as we believe she is." The villainous doctor nodded quickly as he continued his grand lie, forcing sentiment into his voice as he continued. "And I'm sorry for your loss. The world will be a better place soon."

The world would certainly be a better place, but not _quite_ in the way that Tanaka Junichi was imagining it. All for One's vision would soon be a bit further within reach once they proceeded with their plans.

"But first," The Doctor continued, a twisted and deranged grin playing upon his features. "I'll need to know as much about her as you can possibly tell me."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N - the beginnings of the internship arc are upon us! You know what else is upon us? SEASON 4! *screams unintelligibly*. It's almost here, October can't get here quick enough. I'm so excited to see some of my favorite characters from the manga animated.**

**A big thank you once again to all who take the time to review, you have my love!**

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**.**

_The world was painted red._

_Hues of the deep, passionate, and rage-invoking color overtook any and every other color that might have normally been visible. Everything was red – from the sky, to the earth, to the peak of the mountain she stood atop of. Every rock, blade of grass, cloud, and river was red._

_She could see for miles, the view from her precarious position on top one of the highest peaks she had ever seen was unparalleled. Miya could see so far along the horizon that it became hard to tell where the terrain stopped and the sky began. The hues of red that made up the ground and the heavens blended together._

_It was awe-inspiring, majestic, and truly horrifying all at the same time._

_How had she come to be here? Where exactly was she? How had the other colors on the visible spectrum just faded away to leave it all painted red?_

_Miya stood in amazement as she looked over it all. Her questions seemed to melt away as she took in the landscape, so unfamiliar to her, that stretched in every direction._

_Suddenly, the world began to rumble._

_Rocks shook and fell from the mountain. Birds scattered from the trees. The earth began to split, deep crevices forming and swallowing homes and rivers whole. The end of nature and peace, or perhaps even the world itself, was upon them._

_The rumbling became louder, and Miya was overtaken by it. It shook her very soul as the noise began to take form, sounds coming together to form one word:_

"_Khatar!"_

_The word bellowed from deep within the mountain was so loud it shook the world, and Miya nearly lost her balance. The base of the mountain seemed leagues beneath her, and she would not survive the fall._

"_Khatar!"_

_The horrible noise came once more, the earth trembling and threatening to give way beneath her feet._

"_Khatar, Mahnaz, Khatar!"_

_The mountain began to crumble, the mighty rock yielding to the power exerted by the word and the Voice that somehow carried the power to split the earth._

_The word came once more then, with a sense of urgency that was felt keenly in her soul. It was frightening, and fear swallowed her heart, erasing any other emotion or responses to be had. The Voice had spoken her name as the mountain continued to crumble. If she hadn't been so terrified, she would have paid more attention to the warning being given._

"_Khatar!"_

_The peak of the mountain shuddered violently, and Miya could no longer keep her balance. She wobbled for a moment, grasping desperately at air for any hopes of saving herself._

_And then, she fell._

Miya flailed as she woke with a jolt, sucking in a shuddering breath as she sat up in a rush from her futon.

Her heart pounded, threatening to explode from her chest cavity as it continued to pump blood through a body that trembled violently.

Her skin was clammy, and a few shades paler than what she was used to, as if she had seen a ghost. Every hair on her arms and neck stood up at attention, and she panted harshly as she attempted to regain control over her breathing.

_In and out, in and out, in and out. _She repeated this to herself for a few minutes, closing her eyes as she sat still and focused on leveling her breathing and subduing the panic that wanted to claw its way up her throat and encase its icy tendrils around her heart.

_A dream, just a dream, only a dream. Focus on breathing, you need to calm down._

When something brushed against her forearm, the sensation nearly caused her to scream and she jolted and opened her eyes once more, still thoroughly on edge after such a disturbing dream.

She exhaled in relief upon seeing it was only the waxy green leaf of one of her new plants that she had bought for her little room in her and Nemuri's apartment.

And then, she looked up.

Miya groaned when she realized that her quirk had activated itself while she was experiencing her night terror, and her room was covered in vines and flowers and little saplings that were had thankfully stopped growing now that she was awake and in control of her senses once more.

That was something she was going to have to learn how to control. Cleaning up the botanical messes she made in her sleep or when her emotions got out of hand was a pain in her rear, and one she would be happy to do without.

Miya only shook her head at the greenery that surrounded her, thinking back on her dream.

It was still vivid in her mind, unlike the normal dreams she had that blurred and faded from her memory not long after she woke. It almost operated like some sort of vision, instead of the silly and insignificant dreams she often had, like her reoccurring nightmare of going to work and realizing she wasn't wearing pants.

No, this was different in a way she couldn't put her finger on.

The dream, much like the other dream she'd had the week prior about a foreign land, seemed different somehow.

Almost like a memory, but not one of her own.

These two dreams had been raw, visceral, and left her in a cold sweat when she awoke from them. A sense of unease lingered beneath her shaky exterior, and she couldn't get rid of the feeling that they left in their wake.

Miya didn't like it, not one bit.

And that word from her dream, along with the Voice that had called her by name – it had been used in a sense of urgency, one that could not be ignored. Like a warning, a dire one.

A shiver raked down her spine as she recalled the word and the Voice to mind.

_Khatar…I don't know what that word means, if it even means anything at all._

Miya ran a hand through her long, tangled hair as she fought the sense of overwhelming confusion. She buried her head in her hands as she took deep breaths, trying to clear her mind so that rational thought could return. Minutes went by until she lifted her head once more.

Absentmindedly, she grabbed for one of her scrunchies in a small cosmetic box that was designed for makeup but currently used for hair accessories like pins and clips and hair ties. A 'new roommate gift' from Nemuri, but one she'd only recently found a use for since she didn't own any makeup.

Tying her hair back always allowed her to think more clearly for some reason. A purely psychological one, she was sure, but it helped nonetheless. With her blue tresses pulled back out of her face she felt she could truly think free of distraction.

She reached for her phone, noting the time as half past three in the morning from the numbers illuminated beneath cracked glass. Setting the phone down with a frown, she sighed again. Miya doubted she'd be able to get any more sleep this night. She laid back down, not sure what she ought to do and attempting to occupy her mind with anything other than the Voice, and what she felt sure had been some sort of warning.

_But that can't be true. Some voice came to warn me of some unseen threat in my dreams? As if_.

Miya prided herself on being a woman of science, where all things had rational explanations. And this was no different – it was just a dream. Her imagination was overactive, and had resulted in a nightmare. The foreign sounding word was likely something she had heard in passing, she convinced herself, even if she knew she had never heard that word before.

A dream, and nothing more. All things were subject to the laws of science, even quirks were studied scientifically, there was no exception.

_Think of something else. How about I list all the steps to the biological phases and surgical procedure to perform a cardiac tamponade? That should keep me occupied for a while._

_Alright, phase one is the __accumulation of fluid that leads to an increased stiffness of the ventricle. A higher filling pressure is needed due to the stiffness. The left and right ventricular pressures are higher than the __pericardial__ pressure in this __phase__, so that means that the appropriate course of action to take is-_

Minutes flew by as she imagined surgical procedures within her mind's eye. But by the time the clock on her phone showed four in the morning, she had finished, and her curiosity was still unsated.

She finally gave in with a low groan, reaching for her laptop and sitting up in defeat. Miya was extremely displeased she was even considering the possibility.

This was very unscientific of her, to think that a word from a dream could possibly mean anything. Her medical peers would laugh at her if they could see her now. And yet she had to know, she wouldn't rest easy until she was certain her dream had been just that – a dream.

She clicked away into the search bar, attempting to spell out the word in a few different writing systems first.

No success.

She switched to English, spelling out the word as best she could in her rusty second language.

No success.

_See? This is ridiculous. It doesn't mean anything._

_Unless…_

Just for the sake of it, Miya switched her laptop's keyboard over to the digital Farsi keyboard she had downloaded to help her practice with the Farsi alphabet when she had decided to start learning some basic things about the language of half her heritage.

It took her some time, the letters were arranged differently, and she had to check multiple times to see if her three symbol word was using the correct symbols or not. After a few minutes of trial and error, as well as coming to the conclusion that _reading_ an Arabic-based script was much easier than attempting to _write_ in it, she was satisfied she had spelled it correctly.

She pressed the enter button in the translator she had pulled up after checking the spelling one last time, eager to prove to herself wrong and lay her strange worries to rest.

But fate had other plans for Tanaka Miya, and she could only gape at what the result of the translated word read.

_khatar: __**danger**_

.

* * *

.

_Duck, jab, roll. Get back up, repeat._

She ran through the motions that were slowly becoming almost second nature to her, her body flowing through the series of offensive and defensive martial arts with a grace she could have never guessed at possessing just months ago.

A swift and sweeping motion from her opponent's long leg knocked her own legs out from under her, but she quickly rolled to the side, regained her footing, and launched herself at him once again.

_Jab, dodge, pivot, strike._

Miya side stepped a quick jab from her opponent, running her fingers lightly along his arm as she used his own motion against him, hooking her heel around his right leg, and attempting to use the leg he was placing most his weight on as a pivot-point for her own attack.

He was faster though, he always was.

She never quite managed to land any blows on him, though recently she had done much better at getting close enough to.

She was really very good at the lithe and fluid movements that allowed her to get extremely close and personal to her opponent, as well as gracefully evading attacks, and she was getting better and better at reading an opponent's body language to predict what move they might make next.

What she wasn't good at yet? Landing an actual hit and using enough force in her blows.

Miya certainly wasn't the strongest woman, but her thin frame and graceful movements allowed her to dodge well and maneuver easily, a fact she had only recently learned how to use to her advantage.

_Jab, duck, kick, jab, jab, duck, twirl, strike._

No hits again, but she had once again maneuvered herself just centimeters from her opponent, invading his personal space in hopes of getting access to the vulnerable areas she was aiming for.

Months of intense martial arts, endurance, and combat training were finally paying off, and Miya was getting comfortable with a fighting style that was uniquely her own. At first, she had tried to replicate and copy Vlad King's brutal and hulking style that used pure force to overpower an opponent. When that had failed to work, she had tried Aizawa's efficient and quick approaches that didn't give an enemy any time to think or react.

But she had eventually come to the realization that copying another's style was foolish, it would never work for her. She was not as physically strong as they were, she was not as fast as Aizawa, and she could not overpower someone like Vlad King could. Their fighting forms were different, as were their builds, but she had come to realize that her build was one she could use to her advantage.

She was taller than the average woman and willowy, with lean muscles instead of a bulky build. Her movements were not strong and confident like many of the men she fought, but instead calculated and flowing.

So, she focused on martial arts like Aikido and had combined a few key elements from ballet.

Miya had always hated the many years of ballet training her grandfather had put her through because he felt it was 'elegant' and would 'help her become a more well-rounded' young lady, but now she was grateful for it.

The ballet she had always hated was something that she was thankful for now, for it allowed her to make a very unique fighting style that combined elements of ballet, martial arts, the flexibility she'd learned from dance, and quick and precise foot and body movements. Now when she fought, it looked more like a dance that flowed gracefully.

All in all, it was a style of combat that was uniquely hers, and one that she was growing more comfortable with every time she practiced and sparred.

What was more, she had recently realized she could apply her knowledge of the human body to her fights. She was ashamed she hadn't thought of it after so many months of failing, but now she would use her medical knowledge to her advantage.

Aizawa had been surprised when she first brought up the idea with him, but had admitted after a few moments of thought that it would suit her better than power-filled punches or kicks. She already had an in-depth knowledge of the human body, including where it was strongest, and the points where it was weakest, and she intended to use those points.

Pressure points – Miya was aiming for pressure points.

She didn't have the build or impressive strength to break bones or send somebody flying in the way that her sparring partners often sent her flying, but she did have her medical knowledge of the human body.

Pressure points were a double-edged sword – they could heal and relieve tension, or they could impair somebody and cause immense pain, even more pain than a broken bone if hit the right way. By incorporating them into her combat style, she could easily incapacitate someone, if only briefly. Unlike a broken bone, the pain wore off after a while, and an opponent could continue to fight.

The catch? She had to be close enough to press or jab one. And that involved getting uncomfortably close to somebody who might be trying to kill her in a real-world scenario.

And that's what they were currently practicing – Miya and Aizawa were sparring, not to actually cause harm or brawl, but to see how close she could get to her opponent while maneuvering around their offense.

And judging by the concentrated look on Aizawa Shouta's face, as well as the beads of sweat that were beginning to trickle down his throat to disappear beneath the black shirt he was wearing, she was doing a pretty good job so far. It made her happy, to see this progress after so many months of getting her rear end handed to her. Now she was just starting to hold her own.

Aizawa dodged her quick jab to the pressure point where the muscles in his neck met that of his left shoulder, grabbing her extended arm and turning quickly to propel her body over his shoulder in a rough throw.

But Miya had seen the shift in his hips that indicated that he might take that course of action as she had attempted to reach for the pressure point on his neck, and she twisted her body to loop her leg around his free arm to bring him down as well.

Because, if she was going down, she was going to take him with her. It was petty, really, but she couldn't help it. If she couldn't land a hit, she could at least let him get a taste of the floor with her.

Aizawa grunted in surprise as they both crashed to the ground in a mess, limbs intertwined and tangled as they hit hard on the floor of the gymnasium.

Miya fought the urge to gloat. She might have, if she hadn't been so disoriented from their fall.

When she opened her eyes, however, all thoughts of gloating vanished from her thought process.

She was face to face with her mentor in a way that made her freeze. Her mind came to a complete halt, putting an abrupt stop to its rapid processing that had been prevalent during their spar. He had braced himself for impact, leaving his forearms framing either side of Miya's head.

She felt the softness of exhaled breath against her face, and the way his hair fell down over her face to tickle her cheeks. They were close, their bodies still entangled, and it was clear the spar was over.

For a moment they held each other's gaze, both sets of eyes wide in the initial shock of their position. Miya felt as though she couldn't breathe, her throat tight as she continued to stare up at him. He was so close, in a way that felt different from a normal spar, but she wasn't sure how.

When she finally did take a breath, it came in a soft gasp that allowed her to take in a bit of his natural scent.

Her small noise seemed to startle the man, breaking the trance that had momentarily enveloped them. It seemed that her mentor had finally realized the nature of the position they'd found themselves in.

He picked himself up with ease and haste, returning to stand and taking a large step back. Miya stood as well, and followed his example of placing space between them. Neither was able to meet the other's gaze.

"Let's end there for today." His voice was gruff, harsher than it had been before their spar.

Miya, still trying to remember how to form words and failing to do so, only nodded.

"Let me walk you to the train platform. I need to inform you about something."

Another awkward nod from the blue-haired doctor. They set out to the train station with a little more space between them than necessary.

After exiting the gym and continuing into the courtyard of the campus grounds, Aizawa spoke.

"My students will start their internship-week on Monday. Recovery Girl also returns from her time off on Monday." He informed her brusquely, and she had to double her pace to keep up with his faster than normal strides. "I've spoken to Nezu, you'll be interning like the other students starting Monday as well."

Miya quickened her stride again to keep up with her mentor. Why was he walking so fast? When she spoke, her tone reflected how startled she felt at his news.

"I have an internship too? Why didn't you tell me sooner? Today is Friday and I was called in for a surgery at the hospital tomorrow, I'll only have one day to prepare!"

She wasn't sure whether to feel excited or to worry.

Was one day was enough to prep and for any travel an internship might include? And who would she be interning for? And to make matters worse, the surgery she had been called in to oversee was one that could last anywhere between eight and fifteen hours.

There were times she wished she had cut all ties with the hospital that had previously employed her, instead of agreeing to make herself available to them on the weekends. This was one of those times.

"It was only approved by my agency today, Nezu signed off on it this afternoon. Stop complaining." He grouched, though she could tell it was only for show.

Miya bit her tongue to keep from retorting.

They both came to an abrupt stop at the train station, and Miya realized then that her heart was still beating quickly. Most likely from their quick walk and the extra energy she had expended trying to match the underground hero's fast pace…or so she tried to convince herself.

That was the only logical explanation after all, and Miya was still a woman of science and medicine, no matter how many weird dreams she had. Finally satisfied with her reasoning, she spoke the question that was on the tip of her tongue.

"But who will I be interning with?" She asked, looking at him directly this time.

Aizawa glanced up, shooting her a look that was both wary and somewhat exasperated. He spoke frankly when he answered her, as if it were the most obvious conclusion in the world.

"Me. I've been excused for the week to work exclusively with my agency, and you'll be accompanying me on rounds and patrols."

"…Oh." Replied Miya, feeling her face heating. She supposed that it was, in fact, obvious. He was her mentor, after all. And then, the reality of his words settled in. "Oh!"

All previous embarrassment was abandoned.

She would be shadowing him on patrols? Actual, real-life, not-just-in-her-daydreams-and-fantasies hero patrols? Like the pros? She hadn't realized her jaw had dropped until it began to ache. She closed it with a quick snap.

"You're not kidding?" Stated Miya in awe, taking a step closer in her excitement which seemed to startle the man at her side. She did not notice in that moment however, she was far too entranced with the prospect of seeing any real action. "This isn't a joke? We're really going on patrols?"

The teacher in question cast his head to the side, once again avoiding her gaze for some reason after she took a step closer.

"Have you ever heard me tell a joke?" He grumbled, uncertain as to why her proximity was bothering him now of all times. He had hardly noticed it before, but he felt aware of it now in the same way he had noticed it in the gym today, and that left him unsettled.

Miya snorted, previous awkwardness forgotten and sliding easily back into their normal bantering that felt more natural than the strange feelings from before.

"Do your 'rational deceptions' count as jokes?"

"No."

"I think they do."

"They don't."

"You just don't want to admit you have a sense of humor, even if it is a bit strange."

"Drop it, Miya."

"Well, I think those weird jokes of yours are funny."

"If you don't stop talking, I'll tell my agency I've changed my mind."

Miya huffed, though the action was of amusement and not indignation.

"Alright, alright, a man's got to keep up his appearances, I understand." He glowered at her, but did not take the bait. She continued. "So, what should I expect next week? Is there anything I should be prepared for?"

Her question eased his glare somewhat, looking slightly relieved at the change in direction their conversation was taking.

"We're taking the eight-hour night shifts, so dress in black and dress comfortably. Bring enough snacks to keep your energy up." He paused, turning slightly towards her and focusing in on her hair. "And make sure to do something about your hair."

Miya's brows knit together on her forehead. Her hair?

"What's wrong with it?" She asked cautiously.

"It will stand out in the dark, do something to make sure it goes unnoticed. I don't care what you do but take care of it by Monday evening, or I'll do it and I doubt you'll like my method." He informed her, voice flat as he continued to assess her blue braid that trailed over her shoulder and continued to her waist.

"Oh yeah?" She raised an eyebrow at him, attempting to discern if he was serious or not. "And what's your method?"

The corner of his lip gave an almost indiscernible twitch.

"A pair of shears." He intoned, voice as serious and grave as a doctor informing their patient of terminal illness. She heard no joke or lie in his voice. Or, 'rational deceptions', as he preferred to call them.

Miya doubted the man would actually come prepared on Monday to shave her head, but she also wasn't willing to take any chances. His teaching methods were known to be somewhat _unorthodox_, and Miya rather liked her hair where it belonged – and that was on top of her head.

"Noted." She returned dryly, amusement sparkling in her dark eyes as an electronic voice at the platform announced the arrival of the Green Line. "Ah, there's my train."

She spoke a quick goodbye as the sliding door to the train opened and she stepped inside. As the railcar began to move, she glanced back at him one last time, finding that his eyes were still averted from her gaze.

She didn't dwell on it too much, though. She was more concerned with trying not to fall. Her new train route was a popular one that many men and women rode to and from the business sector of Musutafu, which meant the train was almost always packed to the brim this time of day.

There were no seats available, and all the handrails to hold on to were taken. So, she braced her feet firmly on the floor of the train car and tried not to lean against any of the other passengers she was sandwiched between as the train moved quickly towards its destination. She eventually failed, however.

The train gave a jolt, and the young doctor accidentally bumped into the chest of a tall man to her left.

Righting herself quickly, she offered an embarrassed apology.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to bump you!"

It was then that she got a good look at him, or rather, a good look at what little was exposed of him. He wore a medical mask and a hoodie that obscured most of his face. He wasn't too old, perhaps no older than herself or in his early twenties. All she could see was his eyes.

A chill ran down her spine. He seemed familiar to her somehow, though she couldn't fathom from where.

"It's not a problem, miss. You couldn't hurt me."

_He meant to say 'you didn't hurt me', right?_

"R-right." Mumbled Miya quickly, turning the other way and attempting to focus on something else.

For some reason, she had a gut feeling that something was off with this man, whoever he was. The sense of a very vague familiarity from his eyes and voice perturbed her. It was only a small feeling, but it remained, and it was enough to render her uncomfortable for the rest of the ride.

Thankfully, he did not speak again, though she didn't have to turn back towards him to know that he was watching her. She could feel it somehow.

_Ignore it. He's probably just another weirdo or pervert you find on the trains every now and then._

With the strange feeling dismissed from her mind, she thought back on Aizawa's instructions to her. It seemed like the best option would be to purchase some sort of temporary hair dye to darken the blue. She entertained the notion of a ball cap to tuck her hair into for a brief moment, but decided against it. Her hair was too long and too thick to fit stuffed inside a baseball cap, and she wasn't particularly interested in cutting it any time soon.

_I should get off one stop early to stop by that convenience store. Maybe I can find some temporary hair dye there. I've always wondered what I'd look like with brown or black hair, I guess now I'll get to see._

Miya felt as though she could finally breath again as soon as she stepped off the train at the stop right before her and Nemuri's apartment, and she was certainly glad to be off the train and away from whoever that man was.

Miya had handled her fair share of perverts trying to cop a feel on the train before, and she was glad that nothing had come of it. Maybe she was being too quick to judge. Who was to say he was another train car pervert anyways? He hadn't tried anything.

He had made her uneasy, sure, but that certainly wasn't enough to accuse him of anything. Brushing off her unease and reprimanding herself for judging too quickly, she continued her walk for a few minutes until she came upon the small convenience store.

She was in and out fairly quickly after selecting a dark-brown, temporary dye for her hair. The box said it would last up to two weeks, and Miya hoped that was the case. She'd never dyed her hair before, so she wasn't too sure how it worked or how long it lasted.

The evening was still relatively cool, despite the fact that summer was fast approaching. Miya didn't mind however, she enjoyed the cool springtime evenings that eventually gave way to smoldering summers.

There was a slight breeze as well, and if she concentrated, she could catch a whiff of the ocean every now and again as she walked the rest of the way to her new apartment.

She was almost too absorbed in her pleasant evening stroll to notice the man in the hoodie tailing her when she turned the corner. Almost.

The young doctor sucked in a quick gasp, and willed her body not to panic. It could just be a coincidence. It might even be a different person. She'd only seen a quick glance as she turned.

But it was always better to be safe than sorry. She discreetly pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, angling it slightly and glancing down so she could see his reflection in the cracked glass of her phone screen.

Black hoodie, medical mask, and red eyes that almost seemed to glint in the dark. It was the same person from the train.

_Alright, Miya, don't freak out. Maybe this is his stop too? Still, I don't want to lead him to where I live in case he really is following me._

With her mind made up, she took a sharp turn to her left, down a crowded shopping street that took her in the opposite direction of her apartment. She kept her pace normal and her face blank, trying to give no indication that she knew she was being tailed if it was true.

She meandered for some time, stopping in front of brightly lit shop windows and admiring the displays. Another turn and she found herself walking down a less busy street lined by apartments on either side. After another few minutes of walking, she checked the reflection on her phone screen again.

He was still there.

Miya felt her stomach twist, anxiety beginning to come to the front of her mind. Statistically speaking, there was much less chance of this being a simple coincidence. She was more confident than she might have been a few months ago, before she knew how to fight, but she couldn't help the fear that clutched at her chest despite the fact she knew she'd be able to fight her way out of a mugging or something more unpleasant.

She turned another corner and hastened her stride. After another minute of walking, she checked her phone again.

He was there, walking quicker now as well.

Miya's heart leapt into her throat, and she sped her walk again and turned another corner. In the back of her mind, she realized that she no longer knew where she was, and that she had entered an alleyway behind the busy streets.

That wasn't good. She turned another corner, trying to find her way back to that market now, where there were people and lights and a crowd to hide in or stores to duck in to if she needed it. Now she was in some dark alley, which was not to her advantage.

She pulled out her phone again, and was so startled to see that he was much closer than before that she dropped it in her surprise. The phone clattered to the ground, but she did not stop to pick it up. The man was close enough now that if she stopped, he would certainly catch up to her.

Miya's heart began to pound, and she was not at all concerned with the fact she'd just lost her phone in some random alleyway, she was focused on getting away. She sped up again, her pace now at an awkward in-between stage of a quick walk and a jog.

His footsteps sounded as she heard him match her pace. She could hear his breathing now, and what sounded like some sort of hushed chuckling under his breath.

She looked back herself this time, no longer worried about being discreet. He was close enough for her to observe that he might just be smiling underneath his medical mask by the way his eyes were crinkled in delight. Without warning, he lifted an arm, looking as though he was going to reach for her.

The young doctor gave into her survival instincts then, pushing off from the ground with as much energy as she could muster to propel herself forward.

Miya forced her muscles to the limit as she burst into a fast sprint, the adrenaline-fueled explosion faster than she'd ever run in her life. She turned corners at random, without a care as to where she was or the fact that she was only getting deeper into the maze of dark alleys. She couldn't afford to slow down. Her eyes darted wildly, and she didn't dare look back.

She could hear him though. He was laughing now, a type of wild laughter that showed he was enjoying himself as he played the part of the cat hunting the mouse. It was deranged, filled with joyful ecstasy, and still carried a note that sounded hauntingly familiar to her.

His footfalls thudded heavily behind her, gaining speed as he continued his mad cackling.

She turned again, and felt her heart drop to her gut when she realized that she had come upon a dead end. Her phone was somewhere far away, and she was cornered.

Miya's own terrified and frustrated shriek ripped from her throat, and she felt bile rising from her stomach when she heard the footsteps come to a halt behind her, and the horrid and sadistic chuckling growing even louder when the man ultimately realized he had won their game of cat and mouse.

"What do you want?" She managed between ragged breaths, urging her voice to fake the confidence she in no way possessed at that moment.

There was no answer.

Miya gulped and squeezed her eyes tightly shut as she turned.

"Who are you? What do you want?" She breathed, voice shaky now as she opened her eyes to face her pursuer.

But the young doctor's question was met with empty space and silence. A small breeze picked up, blowing a paper bag that somebody had discarded in the dark alley across the dirty cement pavement.

_Nothing_.

There was nobody there.

Tanaka Miya was completely alone.

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	13. Chapter 13

**A/N - Hello, lovely readers! I've got an update for you!**

**How are you guys enjoying season four of BNHA so far? Let me know your thoughts about the new season and this chapter~**

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Plastic gloves protecting slender fingers crinkled loudly as a haggard looking woman worked dark dye through her hair.

Globs of hair dye had been massaged into her scalp and she continued to work it down to the tips of her hair, applying the majority of the contents of the plastic bottle to long blue tresses that wouldn't be blue for much longer.

Tanaka Miya stared blankly at her reflection in the mirror as she stood in her and Nemuri's shared bathroom, combing the dark paste through her hair. The oversized t-shirt she normally used for cleaning was now stained around her shoulders and bust. If she had thought about it more, she probably would have thought to do this in the shower so she didn't stain her clothing. But her mind was far away from her body at that moment.

If she had been truly focusing on her reflection, she might have frowned at the dark circles that lay underneath already dark eyes, giving the vague impression of a raccoon – but she was not truly focusing on anything, only staring blankly ahead with a troubled mind.

Her new cellphone chimed as she got yet another email. She glanced at it, but ultimately ignored it. She was far too preoccupied. The cellphone had been purchased just the day before, a visible reminder of how and why she had lost the previous one.

She stared at it a bit longer, her combing movements ceasing momentarily.

After the harrowing ordeal in the alleys, she had retraced her steps in the dark to the area she thought she had remembered dropping it, only to find that the phone had vanished, just like the man. Miya had even gone back the next day before her shift at the hospital, spending a few unsuccessful hours meticulously searching for the damaged electronic.

Finally, on Sunday she gave in and accepted that her phone was gone and purchased another. It was nearly impossible to live and work without one these days, and she was just glad her salary was able to support a replacement to an expensive electronic.

Miya had hardly slept a wink over the weekend. After her terror filled Friday evening, she'd had more of those strange dreams any time she tried to sleep on Saturday or Sunday, with more words of warning in another language she hardly understood and more foreboding scenes of destruction.

The young doctor bit her lip uncertainly, finally focusing on her reflection as she pulled off the plastic gloves on her hands and discarded them in the rubbish bin. Meeting the gaze of the woman in the reflective glass, she realized her normal spark was gone from her eyes. Miya looked frightened, unsure, and exhausted.

Her phone chimed again, this time a text from Aizawa. She ignored that too. She would read it soon, but not just yet. It was probably just the information that she had requested of him earlier about where they would meet up for patrols in just a short few hours after the sun set.

Miya continued to stare at the stranger in the mirror, gaze undiscernible to even herself.

She was positive that she had returned to the correct place that she had dropped it. Miya had a nearly impeccable memory, one that still operated sharply even if she was being chased down dimly lit backstreets, _if_ that was even what had happened.

Whoever was chasing her had vanished into thin air at the last second, and Miya could only wonder - had there ever truly been anyone there in the first place? Was it possible that she could have imagined it all?

_No…maybe…I don't know_.

And there was no way to make completely certain of it. The only evidence she had that there _had_ been somebody after her was the fact that her phone had disappeared as well, and that wasn't strong evidence at all.

Anybody could have picked it up in the time it had taken her to calm down and retrace her steps on Friday night, anybody at all, despite the fact that she hadn't seen another soul in that dingy alleyway.

But it _could_ have been that man who had taken it. If that man was even real and she hadn't hallucinated the whole thing.

There were too many unknown factors for her to lean either way in her judgement - too little evidence to know if he had truly been there, and too little evidence to know if it had been a figment of her imagination. She hoped that the former option held truth to it, because Miya knew well that the path to madness was a slippery slope, and that rabbit hole was one that she had no interest in falling down.

_Maybe I'm just stressed_?

But it had felt so real at the time, and she had heard him and seen him, hadn't she? She liked to believe so, but there was still a nagging doubt present in her mind, one that whispered that perhaps she was wrong, that perhaps it was all in her head.

With these strange dreams and that odd voice that kept speaking to her as she slept…and now to have imagined that someone was pursuing her in such a frightening way…

She stared at her reflection once more, delving deep into the dark eyes that were reflected back to her on the mirror's surface.

_What's happening to me?_

_Is it all in my head?_

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For some reason, the loss of the blue hue in her long locks drew more attention to the young woman in a way she was unfamiliar with. She wasn't quite sure why that would be the case. Even though genetic mutations had allowed for a variety of hair and skin colors to become more commonplace, the dark brown of her freshly dyed hair was still an extremely common color.

She supposed it had to do with how the dark color of her dyed hair blended in very naturally to the rest of her darker-than-average features compared to the rest of the public.

Her skin was a few shades too tan to compare to most people she knew, and it carried an olive undertone to it that was rarely found in this area of the world. Very unlike the skin tones of the people she had grown up around, unless they had quirks that altered their appearance, of course. Her eyes were a coffee color that was prevalent among many people here, but the shape was different, looking closer to the eyes of the woman in the photograph named Laleh. Her mother.

And now that her hair was a deep, dark brown, it seemed to exaggerate the features that she had no doubt inherited from her mother and give her an appearance that looked even more foreign than she had possessed before.

She looked different – she looked more Persian.

Miya was sure that the black clothing she was wearing, as per Aizawa's instructions she had worn a pair of tight black yoga pants and a long-sleeve black t-shirt, only intensified that look. There were plenty of people giving her curious looks as she sat on the commuter train towards the Kabukicho ward of Tokyo.

She would blend in to the darkness easily enough when the time came, but for now, she was stuck listening to a pair of middle-aged business men whispering about where they supposed she might be from and if she spoke any Japanese.

It was astounding what a change of clothes and some hair dye could do to give you a completely different look.

The two men continued to whisper, not taking too much care in the fact that their conversation could easily be overheard by the already annoyed doctor who sat across from them.

"_You don't suppose she'd come to get some drinks with us? I've always had a thing for foreigners, even if this one doesn't have much meat on her bones."_

"_I wonder where she's from. Suppose she doesn't understand your invitation?"_

"_We can find a way to communicate. Most foreigners heading to Kabukicho are looking for a good time, I doubt we'll have a problem."_

"_It's worth a try, but your wife might just kill you if she finds out you've been out drinking with a pretty young girl again."_

Miya grimaced as they chuckled to themselves. Just her luck that the only open seat was across from these two pigs. It was clear they thought she probably didn't speak Japanese well enough to understand their hushed conversation.

"_I survived the last time she found out about one of my affairs, didn't I? That last one was worth it though, that little college girl had the biggest pair of tits-"_

"Shut your mouth before I shut it for you." Growled Miya, lips curling in a nasty sneer that she threw their way.

She had no interest in listening to the forty-something-year old man describe the explicit relationship he'd apparently had with a girl half is age, nor did she particularly care to hear him describe the girl's body in such a vulgar way.

She was channeling her inner-Aizawa, casting them the most embittered and foul glare she could muster. The fact that she hadn't had any proper sleep over the last few days only made it more intense. Her method worked, though, and she was able to sit in relative peace for the rest of the ride.

Miya made a mental note to thank Aizawa for all the times the death glare that she had learned from him had come in handy. It was a useful tool to possess, there was no denying it.

She didn't spare them a second glance when the commuter train pulled into Kabukicho station, simply stowing her new cellphone in her pocket after shooting her mentor a text to let him know she had arrived, and continuing ahead.

The sight of the district was overwhelming at first glance.

On the train ride there, Miya had been looking up facts about this district in particular, and the less-than-stellar reviews this area had been given paled in comparison to what she was now seeing.

Ranked as one of Japan's most dangerous neighborhoods, Kabukicho was possibly the largest red-light district in all of Asia, and it certainly looked the part.

Kabukicho was also known as one of the last Yakuza strong-holds, a place where many different branches of the dwindling underground organizations fought and did business together. Most businesses, clubs, and stores throughout the district were linked to the Yakuza branches in one way or another. It had been this way for decades, and it was unlikely to change any time soon.

Try as the local governments and police forces might, they had been fighting a losing battle to rid the area of the Yakuza influence, as well as shut down the many illegal prostitution and drug rings that were prevalent here. Ultimately, the authorities had realized it was too big a job, and covert heroes had begun working alongside the local police.

She supposed that she shouldn't have been surprised that Aizawa's agency frequently stationed him here for patrols. This was a dark and shady area, where the big names and flashy ensembles that most heroes carried would only cause more trouble than help.

No, in order to have success, the police and heroes would need to blend in, to lurk in the shadows and fight in the dark. She was certain that things were different here, as opposed to the way normal heroes might go about patrols in broad daylight and fancy costumes to put the public at ease.

But not so in Kabukicho. In order to catch crime in an organization that operated underground, an underground hero was required – and that was where Aizawa came in. And Miya too, at least for this one week.

Miya breathed in anticipation as she took it all in, coming to a standstill on the train platform. She suddenly felt a rush of energy, one she was grateful for given the fact she had slept so poorly all weekend.

Her grandfather had never let her anywhere near this area when they had lived in Tokyo, so she had only ever caught a glimpse of this ward on train rides in and out of the megacity.

Neon signs flashed dazzling colors in the dark night sky, electronic billboards changed their advertisements every few seconds, multiple sources of music floated and intermingled in the air, and the crowd was packed and boisterous. The night was young, but Miya could already smell the stench of alcohol mixed in with many other smells that permeated the area.

The noise and light and people and scents were overwhelming, and in the chaos of it all, Miya momentarily lost herself as she searched for Aizawa through the thick and rambunctious crowd.

That is, until a large hand came down upon her shoulder.

Miya spun, meeting the eyes of Aizawa Shouta as they stood still in the large group of people moving this way and that.

"This place is crazy!" Miya called to him over the loud noise that seemed to come from every direction.

She could hardly hear him when he responded, but managed to make out the words of his tell-tale flat tone that didn't want to waste time chit-chatting, sprinkled with just a dash of grumpiness. Which was, as far as Miya had known him, one of his decent moods.

"Stop gawking." He instructed, turning quickly and beckoning to her to follow. "We have work to do."

"Sure thing, boss."

With their faces illuminated by a strobe light from a nightclub they were passing, she saw his eye twitch.

"Don't call me that."

"Why? I'm your intern this week, aren't I?" She replied excitedly as they meandered and navigated through the crowds on the street.

"While we're on duty I expect you to follow protocol." He replied, tone daring her to challenge him. "You'll call me by my codename, Vita-Girl."

Miya couldn't help the way her mouth quirked at hearing her newly picked hero name falling from his lips. She had dreamt of this moment for years, never thinking it would be a possibility after having failed her entrance exams.

But here they were. She had a hero name, a position at the same school she had only ever dreamed of, and an opportunity to see what real patrols were like.

So much had changed in what was almost half a year ago that Aizawa Shouta had appeared on her doorstep to extend an offer of employment on behalf of UA. She had grown so much, leaving behind the timid and compliant young woman she had been before and learning how to truly live for herself and make her own way.

That thought in itself was enough to allow Miya to momentarily forget everything else. All her worries seemed to vanish in an instant.

Her fright about what had happened on Friday, her stress from being on call for surgeries while holding a full time position at UA, her worries about whether or not she would be able to be a suitable replacement for the legend that was Recovery Girl, the physical stress of all the training she had been putting her body through, the drama that came from her grandfather – it all seemed to melt away as she focused on the briefing that Aizawa was giving her as they walked quickly down street after street, delving deeper into the areas that looked a little more unpleasant.

She felt truly alive in that moment, as she let everything else wash away.

"-as well as the Shie Hassaikai's recent turf grabs in this area of–" Aizawa glanced over at Miya, visibly disgruntled with the fact that the young woman was gawking at practically everything they passed and staring at her surroundings with starry eyes. "Are you paying attention?"

"Of course." She replied, looking quite pleased with herself, and then allowing her gaze to drift off to the left when something else caught her eye.

"Then what did I just say?"

"That the Inagawa-kai recently lost almost a fourth of their territory to the Shie Hassaikai, and that there's been skirmishes between the two groups." Miya parroted back to him, though her eyes continued to wander. "Don't worry, I'm listening. I'm a surgeon, a researcher, and a woman – I'm basically a multi-tasking queen."

Aizawa only grunted at her, growing impatient with her attitude. That certainly wouldn't do. She'd end up getting herself killed before long if she wasn't focused. The Yakuza were no laughing matter, this the underground hero knew by first-hand experience.

Deciding to put a stop to it now before it got out of hand, he grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her down a side street, ignoring her protests as he pushed the woman roughly against the dirty brick outer wall of a dingy looking bar.

People continued to pass by them on the street, none giving them the time of day. This sort of thing was normal here, and many chose to turn a blind eye towards events of that nature.

"I don't want your multi-tasking, I want your undivided attention." He reminded her sternly. "This isn't a field trip, this is the real deal. Treat it for what it is and don't get cocky or you'll end up in a body bag, got it?"

Miya blinked in shock, his harsh words sobering her immediately.

"R-right. Sorry." She murmured, eyes wide as he released her from his tight grip and stepped back.

He was right, though, she knew it. She was too excited about being here, too distracted by her surroundings. Even if she had been listening, Miya knew that he was correct about the fact that what they were doing deserved her 100%.

Aizawa frowned at her before continuing down the street.

Miya blinked once more, shook her head to clear her mind and focus like he'd told her to, and followed closely after him.

"So, where to first?" She asked, albeit more quietly and with more reservation than before.

"The rooftop across from a bar called Suzu's." He replied, eyes glued ahead and hypervigilant of his surroundings. "An insider tip-off relayed to authorities that an independent dealer will be delivering a shipment of weapons to the basement tonight for the Inagawa-Kai to pick up later this week. Apparently, it will be disguised as a shipment of hard liquor."

"How strong are the Inagawa-Kai now that they've lost parts of their syndicate to the Shie Hassaikai?" Miya asked as they turned a street corner.

A scantily clad woman smiled sweetly at Miya, giving a sultry wink as the duo passed a building where men drank and gambled inside, each with a beautiful and half-dressed woman on their arm. Miya flushed and faltered slightly, nearly tripping over her feet at the hostess who had winked at her.

"Keep up and pay attention." Aizawa barked at her before answering the question as Miya clambered to match his pace once more. "It was a large blow, which is probably why they're looking to purchase more weapons. Our job is to observe the transaction for now, so we can learn the identity of the man trafficking to the Inagawa-Kai."

"It's just a stake out? You won't stop them from taking the weapons?" Miya asked, confusion lacing her tone.

"Not yet." He affirmed, explaining further when he noticed her confusion. "We have an undercover officer on the inside posing as a new member. The transaction needs to happen in order to keep the officer's cover intact and make sure they aren't suspected. We still need more information about their operations before we make a move, but it won't be long."

"That makes sense." Miya mumbled, more to herself than to Aizawa. "I guess it's only a matter of time before the rest of the clans are busted and broken apart too, right? It seems like the shift towards organized villain groups is overtaking their place. That's what I've heard on the news, at least."

They turned down an alley this time, and Miya felt a shudder down her spine as she forced herself to follow.

The images of the man in the hoodie filled her mind's eye, and she steeled herself in response, pushing the troublesome thoughts away as her mentor pulled out his signature restraints.

"Never underestimate an enemy, Vita-Girl. That's been the downfall of many great heroes." He replied seriously, attempting to drill that point into her head. It might just save her life one day. "But yes, that's correct. Organized villain groups with ideologies that fight the system are more popular than crime syndicates. They rally more villains to their cause than the Yakuza do to theirs. But the Yakuza have been intertwined in our country's framework for centuries. They've been here before the rise of quirks, so it's unlikely they'll go anywhere anytime soon, no matter how weak they are now."

"I suppose they're both fundamentally different, though I can see why diminishing their influence would be difficult." Miya replied, taking his advice to heart but also thinking aloud. "The Yakuza are more business and trade oriented and have a presence outside of crime. Don't they also give loans and provide disaster relief and protection for the locals in the areas they operate in?"

A sturdy nod from Aizawa as they turned into another alley, stopping underneath a rickety metal fire-escape.

"Yes." He affirmed. "Their existence is a complicated one since they dabble in everything between drugs or prostitution all the way to government. They have plenty of public support from those who receive their protection. That's why they've hung on for so long."

He gestured up then, and Miya allowed her eyes to follow his movement to the roof of the building.

"This is it. Use the fire escape but don't make any noise."

"And you?" She murmured, lowering her voice to match his lowered tone.

But he had already launched himself into the air with his restraints, slinging himself upwards in one silent and graceful movement to land on the roof. He peered down at her then, gaze expectant.

Miya stared after him.

_Oh. Duh._

Her gaze turned toward the fire escape that looked as though it might collapse if she put her full weight on it. This metal contraption had to be at least as old as her grandfather.

Miya scowled as she hoisted herself up onto a nearby trash can and then up onto the fire escape, wishing that she also had some sort of fancy tool to help her maneuver more easily. The fire escape groaned and swayed slightly and the young doctor froze, pausing to see if she might have alerted anyone. She didn't need to look up to feel the underground hero's disapproving stare at the noise she had caused.

She proceeded with caution, taking her time scaling the rusted metal staircase and being careful of her footing. Too much weight in certain areas caused a noisy metallic creak, so she moved slowly, thinking about how convenient it might be to have some sort of tool to allow her quicker mobility.

_Maybe I could ask that Hatsume girl about something. _Miya reflected pensively on the industrious student. However, a brief flash of Mei Hatsume's maniacal laughter and penchant for explosions filled her mind and Miya winced. _Actually, on second thought…_

But she could think about that later. She had just arrived to the top, and Aizawa sent her an annoyed look that signified she had taken too long by his standards. She wrinkled her nose back at him, as if to say 'oh, stuff it'.

He only ignored it, discretely waving her to where he was sitting on the roof, crouched down low with a pair of binoculars. He handed them to her as she situated herself.

"Get comfortable, we'll be here most of the night." He mumbled quietly.

"All night? You're joking, right?" She whispered back, taking a peek through the binoculars and focusing on the back entrance of the bar across the street.

"We've already established I don't care for jokes." Aizawa reminded her dryly.

"Mm-hm, right." Miya responded back in a whisper, though her mentor was still able to detect the dubious nature of her comment. "You're still in denial about your 'logical ruses' and 'rational deceptions', huh? I know you have a sense of humor deep down."

"If you're going to be this way all night instead of acting seriously, then go home now." He grumbled before adding under his breath. "You've been spending too much time around Mic, his annoying habits are rubbing off on you."

"Well, to be fair, you've rubbed off on me too. I figure I've got one of the best death glares in town now." She chuckled softly, voice hushed and breathy in a way that caught his attention despite his attempts to stay focused. "It works like a charm when you've got some weirdos asking you out for drinks."

He paused for a moment.

Was that a joke? He couldn't tell. For whatever reason, the prospect of the woman at his side needing to ward off unwanted attention or romantic propositions made him feel…well, he wasn't too sure.

But it bothered him nonetheless, in a way he wasn't sure he had the words to describe. It felt different than the level of protection he felt over his students. No, this was different somehow. The situation she had hinted at made him agitated to think about. He didn't feel protective at all, not in the slightest. Just…flustered? Agitated? Bothered? He wasn't sure.

But why?

He knew she could hold her own after seeing to her combat training himself, she didn't need anybody's help defending herself against a civilian. He wasn't worried about her physical safety with the level of success he had seen from her defensive and offensive fighting while they had trained over the months; so why was he having any response to her statement whatsoever? It was not a rational response on his part, he concluded.

He supposed that it was perfectly natural that a woman like Tanaka Miya would receive attention in that way. She was a young woman in her twenties, with a kind disposition and features that he had heard people call "pretty" or "exotic", not that he had really noticed. He was fairly certain that students faked injuries or stomach aches every now and again, just to have a chance to get to the medical ward.

She had her downfalls, he knew that for himself. She was too timid at times, too unsure of herself, too naïve in a way that could easily work against her in the real world. She had grown up too sheltered and protected, of that Aizawa was certain, for she still seemed a bit oblivious to the cruel ways of the world. She annoyed him many times, seeming to take pleasure at goading him.

But she was also a talented young woman, a quick learner, and a good conversation partner. Conversation, in the times he had engaged in deeper conversation with her, was both mentally stimulating and perfectly satisfactory to him. When she wasn't being annoying and silly, he found her presence tolerable, which was more than he could say for most.

And even though she pressed his buttons from time to time, she seemed to know when to stop, unlike a certain loud and blonde hero he had grown up with. Aizawa Shouta had no true complaints about Tanaka Miya, at least none that impacted his ability to tolerate her continued presence at his side.

It was only natural that she would have plenty of invitations from potential romantic interests to turn down if she so chose. Perhaps she might even accept one in the future. Most women in their mid-twenties were dating or even getting engaged and married. Nothing about this was out of the ordinary, he reminded himself.

Suddenly feeling a sense of irrational irritation, and becoming even more agitated at the fact he had no explanation for why he was experiencing this, he frowned.

"Stop talking and keep your eyes trained on the back door." He instructed quietly, still slightly disconcerted with his previous train of thought.

"Yes sir, boss man."

"I told you not to call me that."

A small giggle came from the woman at his side.

Aizawa bit back a sigh. This was going to be a long night.

.

* * *

.

Miya's feet dragged heavily as she trudged her way back home.

She hardly needed to look at her wrist-watch to know that it was impossibly late. Or impossibly early, depending on how one assessed time. Either way, the sun was showing hints of rising in the sky, and the young doctor was certain that she would sleep well as soon as she made it home and collapsed on her futon after a shower.

She was passing people on the street who looked as if they were on their way for their morning commute towards their work place, as opposed to Miya, who was just returning from her first night of patrols.

Miya wasn't even sure she could really call what they had done a patrol, however. They had sat on that dirty rooftop for hours, taking shifts peeking through binoculars and snapping discreet photos whenever they caught signs of movement.

She wasn't sure what she had expected, but a stake-out had not been high on her list. But she supposed that it was part of a hero's work as well, and she had received some excellent pointers from Aizawa while the hours had dragged on, who whispered many practical tips about the art of stealth and infiltration while they waited for the shipment to arrive.

She had learned a lot in just one night, even if she had seen no action. The shipment had come and gone, and they had taken many notes and pictures to hand over to the local police chief to help identify the man who was trafficking weapons in and out of the district, as well as some vital snapshots and behavioral documentation of the Inagawa-kai.

It was the closest she had been to villains or criminals since the attack on the USJ, at least the closest she had been aware of. They had watched and recorded from the shadows for hours, like creatures of the darkness, blending in to the dark background.

And now? She was nearly home after switching rails and beginning her walk from the platform to her apartment with Nemuri, finally feeling as though she would be able to sleep well for the first time in days.

The streets were relatively empty at such an early hour, save for the business man or woman here and there, ones who likely had a longer commute to work and had to rise earlier than others. But other than that, the busy city of Musutafu seemed quiet, nearly peaceful.

The hustle and bustle had yet to begin, and many residents had yet to waken from their slumber. Miya enjoyed the quiet of the early morning as she trudged along, feeling more at peace than she had in the last few days.

In little time, she had finally made it to her building. Nemuri's apartment was much nicer than the one she had previously shared with her grandfather, and it even had the perk of extra security of locked doors in order to enter the building. All residents had special key cards to swipe in order to gain access to the lobby, unlike her previous apartment, where all the doors to each apartment had been exposed to the street.

The added security made Miya feel a bit more at ease, especially since Friday night. She paused at the doors as she dug out her swiping key at the door to the lobby, pulling it out after digging for a moment in her pockets.

If she hadn't paused, it might not have caught her eye.

A flickering streetlamp on the corner of her empty street, the slightly ominous wavering of light catching her attention as she paused and glanced to the side. But the lamp and its faulty light were not what caused her heart to skip a beat.

Standing underneath the lamp, partially illuminated by the flickering light and partially obscured by shadow, was the man in the hoodie and medical mask.

Miya froze, her key card slipping from her fingers in shock.

Her entire nervous system gave a jolt, and she was frozen to the spot in a stupor as ice seemed to spread through her veins. He was there, and though the shadows covered his eyes and face, she could feel his stare upon her skin. She knew, instinctively, that he was watching her.

Her mouth trembled, and for a short moment she remained frozen, her hand wavering in the air as she willed her body to move. It did not comply at first, but after a few moments of terrified stupor, sense and reality came crashing back into her.

She tore her eyes from the imposing figure and scrambled for her dropped key card, fumbling with it as she jammed it into the slot with shaking hands until she heard the little electronic beep accompanied by a small green light that allowed her to enter the building.

She glanced back once more before she slipped in the door.

He was gone.

But she still refused to linger. Miya all but sprinted for the elevator, shifting her wait nervously back and forth as she ascended to her level high above the ground. She rushed, not breathing a sigh of relief until she had made it inside her door and double locked it for good measure, as if the locks could keep her troubled mind at bay as well. It was a small sense of security that meant very little, if somebody really wanted to get to her a simple chain lock would not hinder them, but it nonetheless made her feel slightly better.

"Miya-chan!"

The young doctor bit her tongue to keep from shrieking as the sudden noise took her by surprise. She tasted copper in her mouth as she spun around, her wide and wild eyes settling upon her roommate. Upon realizing it was only Nemuri, she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, her chest deflating with a slow rush of air.

Nemuri's thin brows furrowed at the jumpy reaction, but she continued anyways.

"How was it? See any action? Any suspicious activities?"

The image of the hooded man under the flickering lamp post filled her mind as she stammered an answer.

"I – I – what?"

"Your patrols…" Nemuri trailed off slowly, looking at the flustered woman curiously. "How did they go?"

Miya could have smacked herself for being so silly. Of course she was asking about the patrols.

"Fine!" Miya barked out with forced enthusiasm, a bit too forced to be believable. "Good! Wonderful really, very informative."

Nemuri frowned as Miya let out a peal of nervous laughter, not quite buying it.

"Are you okay? You don't look so good, Miya-chan." Stated the raven-haired hero as she gave the doctor a skeptical once-over. "Did he bother you again?"

Miya's chest tightened, and she attempted to control her reactions.

"Who?" She breathed, hiding her hands behind her back so that her roommate would not see how they shook.

She received a strange look in response.

"Aizawa-san, of course…who did you think I was talking about?"

"Oh! Of course. Sorry, I haven't slept well recently, I think I'm just tired." Miya returned, glancing to the side as she lied. Though perhaps it wasn't completely a lie. She hadn't been sleeping well at all. "I think I'll head to bed now, I'll see you when you get home in the afternoon."

Nemuri watched in confusion as Miya awkwardly scuttled around her before retreating to her room and closing the door, leaving the older of the pair to stare after her.

It wasn't the first time she had noticed the young woman's jittery behavior over the last few days, but this was certainly not the best vote of confidence that Miya was as 'okay' as she wanted Nemuri to believe. Nemuri had noticed, of course. She was a pro after all; it was her job to notice the smaller details.

She had little idea what could possibly be the matter, but she was certain of one thing: something was wrong – and Tanaka Miya was frightened because of it.

.

* * *

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**Reviews! (I've decided to start answering them)**

**Biracial Person:** I am just so tickled you're so excited about a biracial OC! I know that I had always wished there were more fics that had OCs that represented people like me and weren't only the 'run of the mill blonde hair, blue eyes, porcelain skin, etc etc'. And then I thought...why not do it myself? Anyways, thank you for the review and I hope you continue to enjoy :)

**ukitakeitalialover041757: **The suspeeeeeeeeenseeeee! Haha, I love writing that kind of stuff, so I'm glad you enjoyed reading it. I listened to a bunch of creepy music to help me get in the mindset! Also happy you enjoyed the Aizawa/Miya moments, Aizawa is such a tricky character to write, so its good to know the scenes came off as authentic

** : **Ahhhhhh, I'm glad you liked the moments! They're cute to write, especially just as a sprinkling of oblivious cute moments here and there since they're both about as dense as a rock when it comes to their emotions, lol! I'll reveal the bit with the dreams and who is following her further down the line, but I can't give away too much yet...


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